


We, The Broken

by mayapatogarat



Series: Of Knots and Knights [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant Except Jaime's Arc, Characters are a merge between book and show, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Shows How Pointless Was Jaime's End if Everything Else Can Remain the Same Except His Ending, Wedding, it takes a village
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19082860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayapatogarat/pseuds/mayapatogarat
Summary: This is basically Book!Jaime coming to the rescue of Show!Jaime in 8X04, taking him step by step out his D&D persona in the most organic way I could write it. Don't want to spoil anything, but I assure you that Brienne and Jaime do eventually hook up and get happy together, just a *little* bit later in their lives, mainly once the transition to Book!Jaime!WithinShowPlot is complete. :)UPDATE: FIC IS DONE!!Hope you enjoy it. (Warning: a more thorough  revision for typos/mistakes still needed )





	1. The Longer Night

**Author's Note:**

> I will be forever thankful to the Jaime Lannister is Alive! Clown Club (and the press that covered them) for hooking me with this fandom. Even if always fascinated by the ship, it was their passion and their analysis of the Jaime character that pushed me into a die-hard Braime stan.

She had not allowed him into her bed that night. She had not been rude, she had not been shy either.  He had noticed, of course, how she had sobered up (granted she was even tipsy, to begin with) the moment Tyrion had gone all-out-Tyrion. Then Jaime, going all-out-Jaime, had stood up, blocked Tormund, fetched the wine and knocked at her door without much thought, plan or consideration. He had confronted a dragon front face without even knowing how to properly use a scorpion. He was not afraid of death. _She looks surprised to see me here, but also tired. My brother meant no ill, but she is delicate, sensitive. Something impossible to guess unless you have spent as much time with her as only me, and perhaps Podrick, has._ Looking at her now, he remembered her eyes in Harrenhal, _the calm blue lights that guided me North, perhaps._   And it was such lights that put a halt to his –now he recognized–  half-baked seduction plans. He intended to tease her into completing the game, but instead, he politely asked her if he could come in. She gave the wine jar a puzzling look.  “This is… we can make one more toast, you and me.” Her eyes softened up, but her mouth was still stiff. “Or only me.” _There is the smile_ , and she fully opened the door.

He placed the jar on the stool next to the fireplace and went to sit at the edge of her bed. He could see she was trying to decide where to sit in turn and failing to come up with a sensible solution, she settled for putting one more log into the fire, taking then a slice bar and kneeling in front of the fireplace, surely pretending it needed to be kindled forever. _Gods, wench, your room is awfully hot already._   “We survived, Jaime.” She turned her face to look at him. _Stare at me, with those eyes that say ‘I know you’._ “I was not expecting it, I was not expecting it at all”

“You were counting on dying a virgin, then.”

Impulsive mouth, but coming from him (and not from a stranger) it denoted complicity and understanding, intimacy, and so she broke laughing and finally left that damned poker alone, coming to sit next to him.

“I don’t think I ever told you my father tried to marry me three times”

 “A most trying task.” _I heard all about it, dear, but you don’t need to know._

“The first two broke the engagement because of my looks”

“I had immediately presumed it was all three of them”

“The third one was an unsightly old knight, five-and-sixty, who told me I should begin wearing gowns once he had bedded me or else I would be disciplined.” She gave a small dramatic pause, Jaime looked at her with anticipating eyes, knowing what was coming. “I told him I would not be disciplined by someone who had not beaten me in combat”.

“Was he ever able to walk again, poor soul?”

“It was just two ribs and the wrist I broke. I was six-and-ten. My father did not insist afterward.” 

“Already being the honorable knight at such early years.” This last thing he said without any concealment of devotion. _You are as strong as you are magnificent._  It was his cue, or was it? He did not know. Not losing his eyes on her he ventured to place the back of his only fingers on her cheek. His heart absurdly pounding, he held the side of her face more firmly and began to cut the distance between them.

She lowered down her gaze.

“War is not over yet, Jaime”

_You dammed sullying wench. Perhaps I was expecting to die as well, like you. With you. Yes, I was not expecting to be here either, but it is here that we are, in the fucking North. Perhaps, perhaps war is over for me._

“Don’t take this wrong” She took his only hand that had not given a fuck and had kept on caressing her face despite her tacit refusal. She brought it down but did not let go of it. He stared at their holding hands for a moment, fearing what would come from her mouth next. _Not a kiss, that’s for sure_. “But I cannot see you either running away **_from battle_** or running there **_to battle.”_**

 _I see._ He let go of her hold and rose from the bed, calmly, even if inside of him he felt as if struck by the Night King himself. _Is she fucking, right? I don’t want you to be right. I don’t want to remember that you can be right._ The room was hot as ever and for a moment he thought of losing his clothes, taking out his fucking golden hand and throwing it into the fire. _Naked, as you saw me in Harrenhal_ , _naked like my sweet sister has never seen me; never will, even if by some curse and punishment I were to fuck her in the 7th hell for all eternity._ Jaime was a man of action, even all alone on his ride to the North and away from his sister he had not given much thought as to why, this time, he was done and over with her for good. _‘You never think, you never do, that’s the problem’_ his sweet sister had said in one way or another, in spite and drunkenness and mockery, over and over throughout his life. He closed his eyes. It was not her he was with tonight.

“Perhaps I should give a thought to what you are saying.” He managed to say from the bottom of the spiral he was abruptly drawn into.

It was her eyes that responded ‘ _you know I will be here for you, Jaime. I am yours. I will always be yours’._

“We fought well, right” She then said with her voice.

“It was the fight of my life.”

 

 

******

 

Idiotically, he picked up the full jar of wine before wishing Brienne a good night and closing the door. _Gods, please may I not stumble upon Tormund now. He’ll assume I was either too quick or rejoice in the truth._ He could still hear drunken laughter in the dining hall and now not feeling celebratory in the slightest he ventured out into the cold instead. _This air feels good, had I gotten more of it in my youth, maybe, I would have saved myself and every one the toils of my stupidity._ He strolled through the Courtyard without much sense of direction until he spotted a figure sitting in the snow, looking nowhere in particular, seemingly not giving a horse ass about the cold. _That’s Robbert’s bastard, Gendry. Hansome boy. Now a lord. Immersed in thoughts, it seems, very unlike his father._ When Gendry finally raised his head, as Jaime was standing right above him, he looked disappointed. _He was expecting someone, he got the crippled Kingslayer instead._

“Are you mournful of becoming Lord? I would be in your place”

He gave him a quizzical look, but Jaime was not sure if it was because of the content of the question or because of the one who was asking.

“I am Ser Jaime Lannister.”

“Yes, I know who you are, we lost a fucking dragon and the Wall in order to get you. A one-handed fighter.”

“I am sure it was my brother who came up with the plan because indeed it was extremely stupid.” _To trust my sister._

The boy gave a shrug.

“At least I fetch wine, besides half-fighting, I mean.”

He offered the jar and the boy casually took it. There was, in fact, a calm but resolute manner in his entire demeanor, completely lacking the grandiosity and drama-promptness that characterized his highborn relatives.

“You need to get used to drinking if you are to follow into your father’s footsteps,” Jaime said sitting next to him. “I was part of his council for a while, you know.”

“Was that a decision he took while drunk?”

That stole a smirk from Jaime.

“Why is that so? You know me enough to say that?”

“Well, you are a one-handed fighter but a fierce one if you survived. I don’t see you talking palace intrigues, to be honest, or whatever it is Lords and Hands and Councils do. I wouldn’t know. I have no idea. Nor of that, nor of anything. ”

“Lord Baratheon”, Jaime said not concealing sarcasm, “trust me, it will be extremely easy to surpass your predecessors. You may sit here frizzing your ass for the entire rest of your Lordship and you’ll be counted as the fairest and most sensible of them all.”

The boy gave a loud laugh. “I served as a blacksmith under your father, I forged weapons for his war, I forged weapons for this war. People have died on all sides with my swords.”

“I can relate.” _I can specifically relate to forging weapons for Tywin, my children, to begin with._

“That was when I met Arya Stark, she hid her origins first, posing as a cupboy. She broke our escape. When I saw her again, after all these years, it was love. ‘She is beautiful’, I thought, ‘but I am not highborn, I don’t’ stand a chance’, so the first thing I thought when the Dragon Queen named me Lord was: now, now it is possible.”

_So you find a girl that fed a father a pie made out of his own sons and then poisoned the rest of his kin… alluring. Ballsy, aren’t you?_

“Except it wasn’t?”

“She told me she was no lady but that for sure any girl would fall in love with me and that I’ll for sure make a wonderful Lord. “

Jaime said nothing but took the wine jar out of Gendry’s hand and raised it.

 “To warrior women.”

 “To warrior women.”

The Baratheon boy seemed happy to return to his thoughts, Jaime, on the other hand, was still not willing to explore any of his own.

“So… Are you going to fight in King’s Landing or are you riding straight to the Stormlands?”

“I think I am done with war for now. Or whatever that will be… What about you?”

“Me, I should have been done with war ever since your father’s rebellion, but I don’t like running away from fights.”

The boy gave him a long examining look. _A bull, for sure, but not a total hunk this one._

“Well, if you want an excuse, I could use a riding companion”. _He has to be joking._ “You know better than most about everything that happened ever since that war... And I can forge something more useful than that showy golden hand you got.”

“That’s an offer I could take without much thinking…” The boy raised his eyebrows, satisfied. “The hand, I mean.”  

“Well don’t say no to the other offer just yet. I don’t want to continue on begging for help to every highborn I come across.”

 

****

 

As they entered the castle and parted ways Jaime noticed that the noise on the main hall had finally died out completely. He was not feeling his body anymore and was looking forward to a long slumber, even if he already knew it would prove difficult with the fucking future still expecting him to make choices. When he reached the door to his room, though, he heard other types of noises. _Podrick! He must have thought he could use a bed to himself tonight._ He did not have the heart to ruin things for him, though, so he went an open the door to the next room instead, where his brother was staying.

“What is up?” His brother said in a sleepy-drunk voice from his bed. “We all assumed you were climbing mountains tonight.”

“More respect, please. And move, you know how much I like lying in bed with my siblings.”

Jaime sat at the side of the bed and began removing his boots.

“And here I was thinking it was mainly a blonde thing with you and not a blood thing. Well if you want to touch, just ask”.

“No, no. It is a blonde thing. But not tonight. Don’t ask more, please.” He said, finally lying in bed and closing his eyes. “Your old squire deserves celebrating.”

“Oh, I see, that’s very generous of you,” Tyrion said resigning himself to the situation and lying back in the bed himself.

“I am a changed man, that does good deeds, haven’t you noticed.”

“False. You have never changed, you have always done good for the ones you love.”

“Fuck you.”

“Good night.”

His brother was not snorting but, as expected, Jaime was not sleeping at all. The face of his sister was merging in front of his eyes with the faces of the dead, with the smell of the dead, with the rackets of the dead.  Her screams of pleasure with the screams of the dead as they charged at the living.

“Tyrion…”

“ _What_ …”

“Do you think she is fucking Euron Greyjoy?”

“Oh, for fuck's sake.”

“You think she is fucking him for fuck's sake, then?”

“For fuck's sake, for fuck's sake… Jaime… She was fucking Lancel, she was fucking half the knights of the Kingsguard while you were being held in captivity, for all I know.”

_That._

_He was not._

_Expecting._

_To hear._

“For fuck's sake, Jaime, it’s Cersei.” His brother said turning to his side as if he had just said ‘the grass is green’.

_For fuck's sake, that grass is fucking green._

_So fucking green._

Jaime began laughing, barking, uncontrollable laughter. Mad laughter. Unstoppable laughter. _Now I know I am, without any room for doubt, the stupidest Lannister in 100 years._ He was enjoying himself, very much in fact. And his brother just gave up on trying to sleep and began laughing along.

 It had been the merriest moment they had had together in years.

 


	2. The Longer Night (continued)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having made another impulsive choice Jaime returns to Brienne's room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is both more paced and romantic than the first one. Gettng the feels of the story now. Next Chapter is a Brienne POV a year after she took the position of Lady Commander.

“And where are you going now?” Tyrion said as Jaime swiftly rose from the bed and began putting his boots back again, aiding himself with his teeth as he was used to. _Soon the Baratheon bull will forge me a hook, instead of this stupid ornament._   “It will be dawn soon enough, try to stay put for one fucking night.”

“It will be dawn soon enough, and aside from you, Pod and Brienne I am not intending to say my goodbyes.”

“Don’t tell me… Don’t fucking tell me that…”

“I am riding South but not to her.” 

Jaime took off, giving long strides toward the door. Tyrion, cursing under his breath, had no choice but to raise as well and follow his brother out. Moaning and laughter were still coming from Jaime’s chamber. Jaime turned to Tyrion, his face expressing amused disbelief. He gave his squire an apologizing look as he opened the door and saw the happy party, one of the girls Pod was entertaining covering herself, the other apparently inviting their interrupter to join them.

“Ser Jaime, I am so so sorry, I thought...”

“No, Podrick. I would not have disturbed you if it were not for a present matter.” Jaime stood at the door implying he needed the squire alone. Podrick began to dress and the girls took their cue. He indicated no need for them to rush composing themselves and gave the girls a kind smile as they passed him through the door. When he entered, Tyrion followed.

“What can I do for you, Ser.”

“I need you to find Gendry Waters and wake him up.  Tell him I have deeply meditated on his proposal and I will agree to it if we go right now. I am sure confusion over the aftermath of the battle is still going around throughout the land. The roads will be clear as dead, we go later we will unavoidably be drawn into fire and blood again. Tell him my brother will talk and explain to the Dragon Queen our departure.”

“I will explain what?!”

“Saddle two horses, I’ll see you both outside in an hour.”

“Yes, Ser.”

As Podrick went out of the room, Jaime proceeded to collect the few things he had brought from King’s Landing. Widow’s Wail, mainly; a cloak, a sack still full of gold.

“I will explain what, I said!”

“That I hate the fucking North… well no, not that… Tell her it was wise for Gendry to get a head start and ensure the loyalty of the Stormlands, have backup support now that her forces have been reduced. Tell her it was your idea to send me there as an informant, that I still need to prove my loyalties and you wouldn’t want me hearing any battle plans against my sister. That, she will believe that.” Jaime needed nothing more in the room. His brother was staring at him in disbelief. “Maybe I am not that bad at intrigue after all.”

“But you are terrible at making sense of your own life! Exactly when did you befriend Baratheon’s bastard?”

“Exactly... Two hours ago, perhaps. Now, if you actually want to give instructions to the Stormlands Lord this is your chance, it may, in fact, prove useful. ” But his brother was not moving from his spot. “I am leaving Tyrion, I really am, and I don’t know if and when I’ll see the only living knight I revere again. Go, put on a cloak, we’ll both meet you out sooner than I would ever like.”

 

****

“You always sleep fully unclothed?” Brienne was only covered by a piece of linen when she opened the door; her strong, beautiful shoulders exposed. 

“ _What…_ My room is hot and…” She was finally waking up. “Jaime, what do you want now?”

“I am taking your old job! In a sense…” He gave Brienne the most earnest stare he could put, given the circumstances. “I’ll be leaving soon, I’ll be leaving before dawn so I had to wake you up.”

“Leaving where?”

Brienne opened the door for him for the second time that night.

“The Stormlands.”

“The Stormlands... And what can you possibly have to do with the Stormlands.”

“I’ll figure it out once I get there.” Brienne looked at him with a blank expression; as if she were waiting for Jaime to wake up from a very vivid sleepwalk. “I mean, Lord Gendry has a fondness for fierce fighting women, _we share that_ , and…” He was improvising on the spot, changing her damn grave stare his only goal. “And as a matter of fact, no matter what Tormund says, I cannot knight you ten times over, so who knows? Maybe I can make knighting women a thing now.” Brienne’s eyes finally gave an indication of a genuine, pleasant surprise.

“Would you really do that?”

“What?”

“Knighting more women.”

“You mean knighting, knighting them?”

“Knighting them, yes! Jaime what the…”

“Would you like me to do that?”  Jaime said in a sudden stunningly truthful tone.

Brianne walked to the trunk in front of her bed, she dropped the linen casually, opened the trunk and began picking her clothes. Jaime was not even pretending to lower down his eyes from her as she got dressed. His heart had beating strongly again, still, he did not move. Dressed she then walked to the room desk. Parchment and ink were already on top of it, she sat and began writing.

“What are you doing?”

“I am writing to my father, I’ll send a crow in the morning, but this one I want you to give him personally.” She made a pause to look at him. “I know what you are trying to do.”

“That is good to hear because I seldom know myself.”

Brienne took a heavy breath, _half resignation half relief_. Whatever the letter said it was brief because she was sealing it quick enough and lifting from her sit.

“You know…” she said, passing him the letter. “Every time we part ways it always feels it will be the last time we will see each other. Except it is not. So I will just assume I’ll never see you again.”

“You will stay in the North, right? To protect the Stark girls.”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll assume this whole fucking castle will crumble down on you very soon, crushing forever whatever dreams of happiness I ever dared entertaining.”

“You assume that… yes.” Now their eyes were locked to each other. Jaime was dancing, twirling, living, somewhere only he and Brienne knew.

“Can I take Oathkeeper?” _Gods, She really likes that sword._  “You can keep Widow’s Wail… That other sword… is also yours. And I need… something to hold on to...”

It was the second most unexpected thing that happened to him that night. Brienne was in his lips and as immediately as he overcame the shock he fully opened his mouth to her. And they were both in that place: was it the forest? The lake? A boat? A bear pit? Harrenhal? A battle against each other? A battle against the dead? A goodbye? Another goodbye?

_An island._

Holding her waist firmly he pulled out of the kiss.

“I don’t actually have to leave now, you know? I just thought it better not to risk...”

“Leave. If you stay with me I will not let you go and this castle… with all its reminiscences, will come crumbling down, but only on you. I know that. I know that in my heart.” 


	3. The things we do for duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I gave Kingslayer your shack, my dear”
> 
> “Don’t call him that, father.”
> 
> “Oh, he takes pride in the name now.”

She had not made many friends that year and she wanted to keep it that way. She did not see motives not to trust Samwell Tarly and she knew she had an ally and a seconding voice-of-reason in Ser Davos, for example. Still, the Tarly boy had been too much excited about the deal he got in the Brave New Realm and so he often withheld criticisms the Hand of the King would surely have received from a more senior Grand Maester.  Davos, on the contrary, was simply too exhausted with life to care beyond the minimum necessary, and she understood. _I let the rest roll their eyes and smile politely at me, Tyrion defends me vocally and ignores almost everything I say in practice._ King Bran was a mystery _if we can still call that entity Bran_. Sometimes she could spot a human being, a trait of individuality behind that impersonal voice. But it could be wishful thinking, a baseless hope. A hope that, in reality, they were not being ruled by an over-confident fool who seemed to have learned nothing from his past mistakes.  _I am thinking with Jaime’s thoughts. He has succeeded in spreading me his sourness._

Regaining Jaime from the Stormlands to offer him the position of Master of War had been the first assignment Tyrion had given her as Lady Commander. The Hand had expected him to be at the Council of Lords when they had elected the new King… except that he wasn’t. Lord Gendry had been cryptic about his absence and Brienne pretended to know as much as Tyrion. ‘ _He says that if he sees the Imp he’ll kill him on the spot, I’ll watch out for him as you asked. You represent me there. I am proud of you, my Evenstar, you have made me proud beyond my wildest dreams’._ Was the last line written in the long letter her father had sent her through Gendry.

_Wild dreams, dreams of Spring, will I ever dare to have dreams of Spring again?_

The way Jaime had learned about the destruction of King’s Landing had not been the best, to say the least. After one particular White-Book-worthy detour, he and Gendry arrived in Tarth just in time for Brienne’s father to inform them he had received a crow revealing John Snow to be Aegon Targaryen, the true heir to the Iron Throne. This was ‘good news’ Lord Selwyn said, ‘because, apparently, Queen Cersei had provoked the Dragon Queen to insanity by striking one of her dragons.’

That is when Jaime assumed, simply took for granted, that his brother would join Varys’ conspiracy. Slaying or even poisoning a monarch was no hard task when you have the monarch’s trust and when so many innocent lives are at stake. John Snow, a rider of Dragons himself, would certainly show mercy, not only to the population of King’s Landing but even –if she wasn’t entirely stupid- to Cersei. He was not wholly assured, but on the few days between his arrival and the ultimate battle he had dared to stay put. To wait, to rest and to hope.

_I love this man, father. But if he chooses to leave, give him a boat and if he chooses to stay, give him a home._

Then worse had come to worst: not only did his brother not join the conspiracy, but he had also rattled out the conspirator. The city had surrendered and even so, the Dragon Queen had burned it all. His sister had died a most gruesome death on the hands of Euron Greyoy. Her womb stabbed, her head chopped in the hands of her last lover. Euron thought he could gain the favor of the new queen if he offered the last one on a plate as a tribute. He was thanked and then immediately executed.  Poor John Snow had been the one forced to do the hard thing when it was already too late.

It had been the vilest outome possible to the war and all his brother had gotten as consequence was the entitlement to elect a new King and the job of his dreams. _Tyrion must suspect that Jaime hates him right now, but he assumes he’ll be forgiven if I vouch for this New Order._   Brienne had thought on her way to Tarth, in those early days of the Reconstruction.

Except that Brienne had not fully vouched for that New Order. It had been Sansa Stark, Queen of the North, that had suggested the King to give Ser Brienne the position of Lady Commander. It had been Sansa Stark who confided to her that she needed eyes and ears in the small council and that she trusted her more than any other living creature currently living in Westeros, including King Bran himself. _So many vows... they make you swear and swear… No matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or the other._

She was returning to Tarth, those early days of the Reconstruction. The place that had made her… forged her by means of spite and insults. She was returning now holding one of the most honorable positions in the entire Realm. She had shown them all wrong. She should have been the proudest, most content of daughters in the whole world as she descended from her ship to greet her father. And yet, it was all quiet, stoic sadness her father met.

“I gave Kingslayer your shack, my dear”

“Don’t call him that, father.”

“Oh, he takes pride in the name now.”

 

***

 

 

Before Renly, before all those other oaths, before Ser Brienne of Tarth… there had been the shack. Already at the age of eight it had become obvious that Brienne would grow up to be a very different kind of girl. She still needed to learn how to fight and cruel relatives -her age or older- would not bother following her there. Either it was too much trouble: getting a boat and rowing. Or too much risk: swimming against the tide, hard rocks awaiting all but the most stubborn of swimmers. As with much else, her father had given up making her return at night from her sanctuary. It was there she began training without being disturbed, where she learned to climb and dive and row by herself. Where she learned to _be_ by herself. 

_I will start to believe that the shack was awaiting Jaime also._

She had been expecting him to be unkempt and unshaved but it had been worse: she had found him fully shaved, head included and thinner than when he had been Robb Stark’s prisoner. He was sitting naked on the shore except for his underclothing, with a pile of dead fish and another pile of bloody entrails next to him. He had lifted his head as her boat approached; making her aware that he had seen her and then returning to his task. He lifted his eyes no more when she docked. He was gutting a particularly large fish, aided by a pointy iron stick that had replaced his golden hand. _I wonder if that’s the only replacement Lord Gendry has forged for him_ , she thought, briefly amused amongst the somber sight in front of her.

“You don't look as if you ever eat your catch.” She said now standing in front of him.

“I fish. I gut. I let the tide take it back. I like the color of red in the water when the entrails reach the shore and then I like how it’s all washed away.”

_Has he lost his mind? Father did not mention that._

“My father told me about the Wild Widows' Siege.”

It was as if Jaime had heard just the wind.

_Gods, I need to try…_

According to her father, upon arriving in Stormland territory, Jaime and Gendry had come across a keep that had no banners but did not seem abandoned. Jaime could not recognize the place and they chose to take a detour to investigate. When they reached the entrance they spotted five bare-chested women on their knees, tighten by the hands, with three men behind them and one in front, playing on their chests with the point of his sword.  _‘Many widows left to their godforsaken fate these days, good friends’_. The leader had said to Jaime and Gendry, as they approached with their horses. _‘We are retrieving them around the fields so they can find themselves husbands again, we fix them cheap’_. Jaime and Gendry came to find the keep was ruled by war deserters. With all honor lost, winter striking and nothing left to lose, the place had become a little stock of horrors for those less trained to defend themselves. Forty men they were and Jaime and Gendry would have had no problem slaying every single one, but not before the defectors had taken a few innocent lives with them. So Jaime had posed as a weapons trader that rode the land offering his skilled blacksmith for goods ‘in whatever form they come’. For twenty days they had camped outside the gates. Gendry was given access to the forgery and had worked restlessly until they had managed to put a weapon on every single woman the deserters had captured.  Jaime provided instructions to the victims by pretending to be an insatiable, lecherous brute, demanding ‘different entertainment’ for him every night in exchange for his slave’s work. It had been glorious.  They had managed to convince the men to handle their swords to Gendry on the last night ‘to give them all an extra edge’. The choice was left to the victims, who had done most of the work. And they had chosen to capture most and to slay and kill a few.

Brienne had to try.

It would set him on fire, but she had to try.

“That is the second time you manage to win a siege without spilling blood, Ser Jaime.” Jaime’s eyes finally rose from the cursed fish _. There, I have waken you.  Pure, blameless rage. You are not insane. Thank gods._

“You fill that armor better than I ever did,” He said, not moving from his spot. “Nice place, this one. Good fish.”

“When did you learn how to fish?”

“It’s easier and simpler than everything I have ever done.” He had finally stopped with the gutting. “So… are you happy now? I thought you would wait at least a little before collecting your part of the bounty…”

“What are you talking about?” Was he also resenting _her_? She would never have thought…

“You kind of rushed into all this renouncing, no? No land, no family, no children. Just like that, kneeling at the service of my brother’s most recent fad.”

“Watch your words. “

“I mean, Bronn is the fucking Master of Coin. So I’m surprised he had the sense to put you there but hadn’t you sworn your sword to the Queen of North? Well, who gives a fuck anymore.”

“Who says I am still not loyal to the Queen?” She regretted that reply as soon as she said it.

“Worse then, an infiltrator. A rat. A traitor.  My congratulations. You are really filling that armor better than I ever did. Continue like this and you will surpass me in every respect.”

It was Jaime now showing immediate regret over those last words. But Brienne knew the anger was not directed at her. So she just sighed and sit next to him.

“I am actually not completely angry to see you.”

“And I wanted to kiss you but you smell like fucking fish and you look like shit.”

Jaime smirked.

“Any other reasons you are here? Because for all I know, from now on you will play babysitter to the small council for the rest of your days while I become the dreaded Fishslayer…”

 “Jaime.”

“I will never come back, Brienne.”

It was pointless. It was pointless saying ‘what would you have done at his place?’ because they both knew for certain what he would have done.

“It has been hard for all of us… We do as best as we can, that doesn’t mean… Many other things matter besides what we want or we would ever have wanted out of life.”

 “No shit”.

“But you are free now…even if I am not, _for now_ …” Jaime turned to look at her.  “And you are still a knight of the seven…”

“Six.”

“Kingdoms... What will you do with that?”

“Right now? Dinner. I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needed to leave this in a cliffhanger. Will post next chapter on Sunday, I hope. Thank you for all the kudos, comments and words of encouragement!


	4. The things we do for duty (continued)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> However awful it was that relationship, it was real for him. And he feels the same thing repeating itself right now.

"Can I tell you a horrible story?"

Night had fallen and Brienne was rejoicing in seeing the stars once again, as they could only be seen from Tarth. Brienne’s shack was a ruin and that was the entire point. Staying there forced you to make a fire and sleep outside or else you risked the perpetual rotting ceiling falling down in your sleep. _It has stay put all these years, though, but why take rash chances in life?_ Jaime had only taken Oathkeeper and another hand replacement to his reclusion, this last one a freaking cup forged into the stump-holder. He could pour wine there and drink from it and he looked lovingly soft and ridiculous doing so. Even more so because he seemed to adore the goddamn gadget.    

“Sure.” She said, gazing at the fire.

“It's a really bad story, Brienne. It’s a sex-with-my sister bad story. The type of story that reminds you the kind of shipwreck you are guesting here in your precious shelter.” He said as he drank from his hand-cup.

 “I just need to look at that thing you are wearing to be reminded of how impossible it’s for me to be mad at you.”

He nodded and drank a little bit more.

"So... I was fifteen and my father was preparing my engagement to Lysa Tully, preparing me to be the heir of Casterly Rock. My sister, of course, had a plan… As she always used to have. She dressed as a village wench and asked me to meet her at an Inn. And she made me fuck her senseless. And she said that she had figured out the way for us to be together forever. If I joined the Kingsguard I would have to renounce property and marriage and I could then only be hers, at King’s Landing. She would take care of getting Aerys to nominate me. And so I said, ‘but what about Casterly Rock?’ And she made me fuck her again.”

Brienne closed her eyes. _He had warned her, after all._

“And she woke me up several times that night to make me fuck her again and by morning I had forgotten all about my inheritance and Casterly Rock. It was her, all I wanted. I was happy to renounce everything for love.” Jaime raised his eyebrows, surely reminding those doltish times, exasperated at his younger self. “The thing is… My father was so angry at Aerys nomination that he renounced his Hand position and took Cersei with him, all the while I had already kneeled and vouched at Kings Landing… So instead of finally being together we _just …_ switched places...” He drank more. “End of the story”.

 _However awful it was that relationship, it was real for him. And he feels the same thing repeating itself right now._ Brienne thought.

“I also became a King’s sworn sword because of love”. She said bluntly.

“Yes, but you wanted to be a fighter more than anything…”

“No, Jaime. I wanted to be a Lady”. Jaime looked baffled at her, as if assuming he had not heard correctly. “When Renly danced with me I constructed a story and the story was this: one day I will save Renly’s life and he will see me, he will truly see me and appreciate me and once he sees me he will choose me above every beautiful lady in the Seven Kingdoms and I will not have to wear armor ever again”.

“You were so stupid”. Jaime said, looking at her with amazement, as if he was saying ‘ _you are my true soulmate’._

“I told my father I would be spending the night here with you…” Jaime changed his expression to inquire.  “Oh, thank gods, he said”

Jaime laughed and Brienne placed her hand on Jaime's knee.

“He told you I asked for your hand?” He said, taking her hand on his knee. 

“What?”

“He didn’t, then. He must have sensibly assumed it didn’t matter anymore. It was on my second night here, while we were waiting. I was _bored as hell_ so I asked for your hand to make something happen. ”

“That’s a good reason to get betrothed.”

“Then what happened happened and I stopped eating and talking altogether for a while. That month is foggy for me. A black gap between ice and fire. Then I heard who was King, who was Hand, who was fucking Master of Coin... And who… And then I thought: If my brother decides that it’s suddenly ok and good for a Kingsguard sworn knight to get married and form family, just like that, because his ass sees it fit then I will be madder, if that’s even possible, more furious than I’ve ever been as I am now with this broken, ruined life I still get to live. Something still needs to matter and I won’t play secret lover anymore. Not ever.”

“That’s honorable.”  

“Yeah, I knew you would say that.”

_You have openly become what I stubbornly saw in you, so deeply buried. Was it there to begin with? And to what extent? What was my role in all this? So many choices we have been forced to take. We’ll see Jaime. Time will tell. We can take a break from promises and choices for a while. We deserve it._

“Let’s sleep together like in the old times then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what they say about the best laid plans.... The story is taking it's own course and I just ride with it. Hope you are enyoing, seems I will be posting (shorter) chapters faster than I thought. I am very Jaime like in this regard, you know, impulsive.


	5. The things we do for duty (Continued)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leave aside the Kingsguard, Podrick and me are struggling to find people willing to be goddamn squires.

She slept holding his stump the entire night. He slept pressed against her, his leg over her body, holding, as if she were the grip of a sword.  

And that had been that.

‘Don’t make it easy on them’ he had said. ‘Give me more things to write on your sad White Book page’ she said in return.

She went back to King’s Landing Jaimeless and Tyrion was too shattered himself to have the valour to ask her why.

And that had been that.

 

A year later things were going neither terrible, neither particularly forward. Putting all attention on rebuilding King’s Landing helped. Who could disagree on that priority? _But what about the inner damage done?_ _The whole faith in rulers, knights and kingdoms is what has been broken beyond repair._ She was the breaker of chains; she gave her army to fight for the living against the dead. She was fair and kind and beautiful. And she had been the worse of them all. Jaime and Gendry were not helping in mending that faith. Gendry’s style of rulership amounted essentially to ‘rule yourself’. The Stormlands were beginning to be referred to as _the Wild Stormlands_ , ‘where everyone and their mother is armed to the teeth’. Tyrion did not dare to question or intervene in Gendry’s seditious policies, not with his brother behind as advisor and enabler.   _We somehow managed to be once again at subtle but very opposite sides of an argument. Damn us._

It was becoming a habit of sorts: Brienne finding herself in front of the White Book, with Jaime’s page open, not able to write anything down even if he kept on giving, indeed, great deeds to record. So that day she gave up as she had done on countless occasions and closed the book. _I’ll better write Queen Sansa, but I cannot do it from here._

 It was on her way out that she met Tyrion at the door. He was holding a sealed letter.

“I was looking for you, can I come in?”

 “Of course”.

Tyrion gave the White Book a long, melancholic look and then sit.

“I am sorry, but I had to. I intercepted your correspondence. I didn’t open it, though”. He said, with sad eyes but an honest, small grin.

Brienne panicked for a second but then remembered that the Queen of the North never sent her messages in written form. _Jaime._  

“I suppose you want me to open that letter in front of you?”  

“No if there is naughty stuff, you know…, that’s your privacy.”

 _Sometimes he is just too charming to hate, and he is fairly trying._ Brienne thought.

“So what do you want to know, just ask”.

“Is he happy?”

“He is trying to rebuild his life.”

“Does he think I made the Three Eye Raven king because that would allow me to be the effective ruler.”

“That is a very blunt way to put it”, but Tyrion had given her an opening, it was her chance to ask directly. “Did you?”

“No.”

“Ok.”

“Could you tell him that?”

“Why am I the one to tell?” She knew, of course, she was the only one on speaking terms with him. So Tyrion did not bother replying but simply begged with his eyes. Brienne sighed. It might as well be the time.

“Tyrion, it doesn’t matter if you wanted it or not. You have to lead now, and you seem far more interested in gaining everyone’s sympathy than in actually ruling. It’s all favours with you, while the kingdoms are morally decaying…, everyone is taking us for glorified bricklayers. Leave aside the Kingsguard, Podrick and me are struggling to find people willing to be goddamn squires. We need to…”

 “We?” Tyrion said brusquely, his expression suddenly stern.

“What are you implying? speak straight.”

“For all I know you are loyal towards two people alone. One of them the Queen of an independent kingdom, the other, the second in command of another kingdom that that will soon be as independent as the North in all respects but an empty tittle. I don’t know the extent of your alliances; you could be writing blow-by-blow details of this joke of a council to Sansa for all I care. I am cynical enough not to care. But no, I don’t’ count on you, Brienne”

“Well you should” Brienne said impetuously, without having any specific idea of how she could even make that work. “From now on… I mean”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Brienne's chapter. I know I know I should have posted the whole thing in one part, maybe I'll do a repost when it's all finished (and properly beta -readed) . Next chapter is Jaime's. Will be published in parts as well.
> 
> Thank you, than you all really. This is my first fanfic in years.


	6. The debts left unpaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is back in King's Landing.

He came straight from King’s Landing dock to find her at King Bran’s bedside. It was impossible for him not to think of Cersei next to Joffrey's body in the Sept. In that other life. _How opposite is this picture and then how parallel. All that I wanted then was to finally be with the woman I loved, after being separated for so long, my dead son be dammed.  Now I am silencing within all my yearnings_ , the mere possibility that the Realm will have a real King _if he manages to break free and live_ the only thing that mattered for now. 

"Jaime Lannister."

Bran already looked like a man but that was the tone and the gaze of a boy, a boy held prisoner within his own broken body, only the gods know for how long. Jaime was reminded of Tommen, frail sweet Tommen.  _‘He's been getting back, Jaime. More frequently, he is struggling for control. It is taking all of his strength, though’._

It had been a year from the truce of sorts between Brienne and his brother. Tyrion had allowed a huge allocation of resources into the creation of a special, eventually decentralized, taskforce aimed at recruitment and training of boys and girls showing disposition for knighthood, high or lowborn. Gendry had conceded in joining the efforts, putting a fort in the Stormlands at the taskforce disposal. It had been the only one she had permitted, aside from the one in King’s Landing, as she needed control and assurance over the principles being taught. Reluctantly, Jaime had come to accept that Tyrion was where he was more out of guilt than greed. He conceded, even more, that his brother was truly invested in getting Brandon Stark out from of the Raven’s claws. _Always the smoothest of tongues and the blindest of assess… Having an all-seeing, purpose unknown, non-human entity to rule us all, yet another slip up in the long line of fuck-ups you have been trying to mend._

“I think of you, often, as a way to escape from the visions. I think of you and my father, and those days”.

Brienne rose and handled Jaime a chair, giving him a reassuring look, implying there was nothing to worry about. The King was not accusing, he was simply stating facts.

“Your Grace wishes something from me, the Lady Commander informed me”.

“When I began entering my dire wolf’s skin, my teacher told me to leave marks on the trees, as an exercise, to train myself in not letting the wolf take control. _But I wanted to be a wolf_. As a wolf, I could run…, and fight and hunt. Then I was given a far more consequential choice: either to go south, try to find my family or to go north, to find the Raven. An I chose the Raven because if I became Raven it would not only be running but _flying_. I wanted to fly. I was 10 years old. Who can know the costs of one little selfish choice?”

“You know better than anyone, Your Grace, that I have done myself far more selfish and far more consequential choices.”

“But have you? What were the consequences of the Raven revealing my father’s biggest secret? How would a crippled negligible Lord from the North end up in the Throne if not for the rightful heirs being set against each other?”

Jaime swallowed saliva.

“You are becoming wise, Your Grace”.

“Chaos is a ladder, a despicable man once said. I cannot renounce my position, that would bring far more chaos. I am used to people carrying me around on their shoulders. Me. Not the entire Realm. I am…, King’s Landing is load enough for Ser Brienne and your brother. You owe me. A Lannister always pays his debts...”

 _And what could he possibly want?_ Brienne had given him no headways.   

“…The people of the West have been the ones most morally devasted.  The proud lions turned into ragged tabbies, and I am only speaking of those who survived or have not been impoverished to oblivion. Nothing is more threatening than a humiliated people. Despite everything, they still revere your father’s legacy, they resent your ‘traitor brother’ but they still want a Lannister in Casterly Rock. This I knew through the Raven’s sight...”

 _No no no no no no._ He turned to Brienne with alarmed eyes, they both had been putting undivided attention to the King until now. Her expression was unreadable. Playing Stormlands Rider for a while was one thing. _A lifelong position of Lord of Casterly Fucking Rock playing Tywin… And alone…_

“…I know you don’t want it. But who wants anything they got these days?” Young King Bran tossed a sudden burst of laughter.  “Perhaps only my sister… She’ll be visiting us as well. She needs to see with her own eyes that I am still me.”  

 

*****

 

“If it came to it”, Jaime said to Brienne after his audience with the King. “If the Raven took over and enforced surveillance and control throughout the Realm, manipulating its subjects with his knowledge for gods know what hidden purposes, would you do it? Would you slay him?” They have found a room in which they could talk in private.    
  
"No." She said without hesitation. “I have thought about it, I could not carry it through”.  
  
"Then maybe you suck at this job and it’s very irresponsible for you to keep it".

Brienne smiled, obviously knowing what Jaime was trying to do.

“A good, honourable Kingslayer comes hard to find, indeed.” She replied.

Jaime started pacing the small room.

"It’s inevitable for me to think that before our lives took the awful turn they did, well mostly mine, but… When we were more innocent, I mean, children… All I wanted was to be a Lord and all you wanted was to be a Lady”.

“You have just heard how important it is to ponder the consequences of all our little selfish choices”.

“And what about the _selfless_ ones? Look at selfless Ned Stark. It was _extremely irresponsible_ for him to get his head chopped. All went down to hell after that.”

“In that, you may sadly be right…”

“If you were to bear children, how would you name them?”

“Jaime!”

“Come on, play the game.”

But Brienne’s expression suddenly denoted she would answer seriously.

“If it was a boy, Arthur, a girl… I am still not certain…”

“I am right, you _have_ thought it through… I would name a girl Shyla.”

“Shyla? What kind of name is Shyla? It’s a magic herb name…”

“What about your wedding dress, do you have the design and form clear in your head?”

“Not in years, Jaime, not in ages.”   

“And ages ago, how did it look?”

She let him know with her eyes that the questioning was over.

“Perhaps I would have said ‘screw you all’ a year ago, but things are finally moving forward. Even your brother…”

“So it is all his fucking fault once again.”

“Do you want my absolute honesty?”

“Always.”

“I think you will accept because you have to. Guilt is more powerful than love or even duty. You will… make amends. Rule rightly. We will always be there for each other and maybe when things are finally stable…”

“Like, in fifteen fucking years”.

“Jaime we both agreed some things still need to matter…, more than us, that at least _you_ would refuse to continue moving from whim to whim”.

“Yeah, sorry, but not breaking things apart is far more doable than fucking trying to stitch the frayed pride of an entire kingdom all by yourself. Tywin Fucking Lannister’s kingdom.  I… I know I have never said it out loud…, it is _evident_ I love you, but make no mistake, I would be happy to love you from the distance as a sad, sacrificed puppy for the rest of my days… It is _not_ about that, if I don’t have you next to me when I…”

And Jaime’s voice broke. His eyes suddenly filled with tears. Brienne could do nothing but hold him. His whole body letting itself go. Finally. In shakes and wobbles. And then it was all. Everything. That was being let go off.

Almost from the beginning of time.

The King he had sworn to protect. The sister he had sworn to love. The father he had sworn to serve.

And all the things he did to keep one oath or the other.

And all his dead children.

And the city that had burned with 1,000,000 innocent people inside. Burning while he was dreaming.

Of being happy.

 


	7. The debts left unpaid (continued)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am the Bear at the pit. I am Brienne’s Bear at the pit. This could have been a liveable life.

Getting the Sept rebuilt had been the other fruit of Tyrion and Brienne’s alliance. Jaime had never been a believer, but it was the only place, aside from the new training grounds at the Dragon Pit, where he could avoid the royal court with all its dealings, leave aside its memories. Neither he nor his brother had shown any desire to speak yet, their interactions reducing to nods and monosyllables whenever they found themselves in the same room or hallway. The Sept was still not ready for hosting worshipers and one-handed-Jaime was too inefficient to assist in the heavy work. But there were a series of giant-sized statues of the seven that needed finishing touches, so he had asked the royal blacksmith to forge a Gendry-worthy stump-hammer to aid him with the chiselling. The first day he had been, of course, mocked to no avail both behind and not so behind his back by the rest of the craftsmen company. But after a week of presenting himself every day and working the same hours as everyone else, he had earned the ‘Tiny Hammer Lannister’ nickname along with the right to drink and share jokes with the workers during breaks.  

Up there in the scaffold he could drift away, softening the face of the Father. _Maybe my father would have loved Brienne if she had been ‘his son’._ _The West has always valued strength, order and discipline. She is in truth everything my father falsely believed himself to be. Even as the all-too-woman Brienne is, he would have exchanged her for the three of us, no questions asked, that of course, until realizing he could not corrupt her._ _No. He got the children he deserved. Maybe everyone does… Ned Stark. Perhaps I would have been like Ned Stark had I grown up in the North. That thought is not comforting in the least._

The training at the Dragon Pit began an hour past the break of dawn, but the youths had passed the voice that if you came earlier you could see the Lady Commander kicking Ser Jaime Lannister’s butt. It was the only time they had for themselves. When Brienne was not occupied in council affairs, there was Queen Sansa, who had been requiring her most of the evenings, and when not, there was Ser Podrick who kept on asking her a thousand questions regarding what to do and say in assisting King Bran’s recovery. It was reasonable; no one spent more time with the King than him. _Diligent, responsible, reliable, Brienne._ Everything was so damn reasonable. But in the early morning swordfights, they could release energy, _speak_ in a manner of speaking, _and engage in the only physical contact we have silently agree to have._

There had been one day when Jaime had fallen on his back and a short but brawny girl, no more than 10 years old, had dared to approach them as  Brienne was giving him a hand to rise. ‘Ser Brienne, can I have a go at him?’ Brienne had done her best not to burst in laughter right then and there. ‘Have a go’, Jaime had said, lifting himself with his one good hand. Other small fighters had followed after the first brave one.

 _I am the Bear at the pit. I am Brienne’s Bear at the pit. This could have been a liveable life._ He thought as he chiselled in. He had said yes to King Bran the very next day after his arrival. He had asked for time to prepare and speak with his brother, fully knowing that particular task would take forever. But time was passing, the Father’s face was soft and gentle, and he was running out of excuses to make it official and get the West wheel spinning once again. 

 

The day he was determined not to keep pushing his departure onward was the day he found Bronn a few streets away from the Sept, outside of a brothel, kissing one of the working girls. He would have rolled his eyes and walk by if not for the fact that instead of leaving the place, the Master of Coin was _entering_ it.  With blood rising up to his forehead he followed them through the door.

“I am sorry, I understand you are in working hours” He was addressing the smiling girl. “But _he is_ _as well_ ”.

“Jaime Fucking Lannister, and here I was thinking someone had cut your tongue besides your hand and your dick.”

As a reply, Jaime just walked from the door to where they were standing, grabbed Bronn by the shirtfront, pulled him away from the girl, hit him with his hammer hand on the ear, kicked him in the stomach with his knee and dragged him out of to brothel to the streets. Bronn now recovered from the shock jumped on him, hitting him in the gut. But Jaime was as much in shape as ever while Bronn was out of form in every single regard. People had gathered to see them and Jaime had no problem in making the humiliation clear as day.

“I apologise, Lord of Highwater, but the Kingdom requires you” He finally said for everyone to hear to a completely defeated Bronn, and then walked away.

 

 

It was past midnight when he entered the Red Keep again. The place should have been quiet as dead; instead, he heard two voices coming from the council room, female voices.

“Some days I dream Arya will come back on her ship with an exotic Prince from a faraway Realm and the Prince will fall in love with me. It’s completely ridiculous, stupid, stupidly dangerous to think that way, I know, but there is still so much of that little girl in me…, oh, how much I wish I could be like you or my sister”.

Brienne and Sansa were already in Jaime’s sight. Sansa was sitting in the Hand’s chair, a half-eaten Lemon Tart in front of her. Brienne was not in her sleeping gown but was not wearing her armour either…, bangs of her short hair falling from her forehead, she looked relaxed and peaceful. Jaime missed seeing her like this. He could not let the chance pass.

“You talk this late so no one can hear you or so no one can judge you because you eat that whole thing?”

Brienne showed obvious signs of shock by Jaime’s sudden appearance from the shadows, but Sansa burst out laughing. 

“A little bit of both”. Sansa said.

“Jaime!” _Oh, don’t stiffen up, please._

“But I can share if you want”.

“No, thank you, I was just passing by.”

“I heard what you did to Bronn.” Sansa continued. Brienne rolled her eyes. “It was staggering, now I have to join my brother’s and Brienne’s esteem for you.”

Jaime wanted to smile at the first remark but could not after the last one. _You don’t know how far I and your brother go._

“It is late anyway.” Brienne said. _Brienne knew_.

She rose from the table.

“I am taking this to my room,” Sansa said, picking up the tart and raising as well. “You can punish Ser Jaime for his reproachable conduct tomorrow.”

Sansa then went ahead leaving Jaime and Brienne alone. They did not move until she was out of sight.

“Does she know?”

“About what?”

“You and me.”

“What _you and me_?” Jaime was not going to reply to that one, Brienne conceded with her eyes that had been an almost-hurtful question.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.” She said gently.

“Really?” He would not let her off that easily. “Could it be that the day I sanctimoniously admonished the Master of Coin for his lecherousness, the day I will finally succumb to the charms of the Lady Commander?”

They both could take it as a joke now. And maybe that had been why Brienne just smiled, shrug off his tease and walked with him to the guest rooms, asking him details about his fight with Bronn. And maybe that had been why Jaime deemed harmless to kiss her on the cheek after saying ‘good night’ when they had reached the door of his room.  

But then Brienne did not move back or turn or said good night. She just stayed put. So Jaime gave her another kiss on the cheek. And she did not move still. So Jaime did not move either. He brushed his cheek with hers. Then Brienne put one of her arms around Jaime’s back, loosely. And he gave her a soft, hesitant but brief kiss on the lips. She was not moving. She was not going anywhere. Another quick kiss, then. Another.

And then blood was boiling.

And it was too late.


	8. The debts left unpaid (continued)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And… one is for protecting and the other is for slaying. And both swords know when to protect and when to slay because they love each other.”

It had been quick. They had made it quick perhaps on purpose to avoid hesitation or regret mid-way through. She had mounted him while he was sitting at the edge of the bed and he would have lasted five seconds inside of her if not for an inhuman amount of willpower and the gloomy thought at the back of his head that if they were finally letting it happen was because they both felt the battle for having anything more was lost.  _So many oaths they make us keep._  He thought as she rode him, ruthlessly.  _No matter what we do, we are forsaking one oath or the other._  No dark deliberations could keep up with her ceaseless, instinctual thrusting, though. And he let himself go with her. Biting the back of her shoulder he came. Holding her with his life.

“That wasn’t bad.” He whispered, his heart still pounding with hers frantically.

“For a virgin?” She whispered in return.

“For a knight.” He said, pulling his head back to look at her in the eyes.

He then rested his head on her shoulder again for a moment and rolled them both to his back. She pulled out of him all too soon.

 _Oh, the candle._  She  _was_ holding a candle on the way to his room.  Where was the candle? The whole Red Keep could be in flames by now because of them. He raised his torso;  _there was the candle_ , on the floor by the door, spent. He lied back again in the bed. 

“So this  _was_  the day”. He said turning on his side, caressing her face. Her expression hard to read in the moonlight.

“I want more.” She said quietly.

Jaime threw a little laugh.

“Well, wait 'till I recover.” He said still smiling, his hand playing with her sweaty hair.  “Now I see I am definitely not…”

He stopped his phrase…, for even in the moonlight Jaime could spot Brienne’s eyes going some place else than the bedroom. Some place inside of her.  _I want more_. There was in her whole expression a vulnerability he had only thus far been able to slightly glimpse at. The expression of someone who only knew how to give. Who could not help herself but to give. Everything, always, all the time, to everyone. All of her. Whatever the costs. Who felt uncomfortable, almost aghast with a part of herself that would dare  _to take_.  _I want more._ She said, now he knew, more as a cry for help than a demand for satisfaction, any type of satisfaction. He could say a thousand things: ‘run away with me’, ‘you can have me, all you want.’ It would not relieve that clash inside of her. And they  _both_  had to live with it.

“You know.” He said with a broken voice after staring at her in silence for enough time to let her know that he got it. “I have thought about changing the Lannister banner, I’ll keep the Lannister Lion in front, of course, but behind it I wanted to place Widow’s Wail and Oathkeeper, forming a crossing. Mark a new beginning for the house.”

“How would you explain it?” She said, returning more to her normal self.

“Well… I can say those are two swords…” She raised her eyebrows, now even a little amused. “And… one is for protecting and the other is for slaying. And both swords know when to protect and when to slay because they love each other.”

“The swords?”

“It’s a metaphor.”

“Standing for what?”

“Well, I don’t have every single detail laid down yet.” She smiled.

“I am happy you are thinking it through, though, it means you are really coming to terms with it.  You will be a wonderful Lord...”

“Oh no...”

“Come on, please don’t go back again on gnawing and nibbling on what a horrible piece of useless…”

“No, no…, I mean I have been put through this like five hundred and fifteen million times. ‘ _You’ll be a wonderful Lord_ ’ was the beginning of the speech Arya Stark gave my pal before kicking him out of her life.”

Brienne stared at him for a moment, something being pondered inside her head.  

“I am no Arya Stark.” She said.

_Everyone assumes you are, though._

“I know…” He said. “And to be honest, I am glad, because I confide to you that girl scares  _the shit_ out of me.”

That was too much for Brienne not to laugh.

“Pink.”

“Pink what?”

“The wedding dress, as a girl I wanted it to be pink…, then, of course, the bear pit came...”

“Seven bless the pit and the bear, if I saw you wearing that hideous pink  _thing_  once again I would rip it off you immediately… It would make an effective wedding dress for me, come to think of it”.

_Oh, darn, no. That was too far._

Effectively, she raised from the bed as if on cue.

“Where are you going? You are not leaving me here.”

“Pretence is the next honourable thing to keep when deeds can no longer be kept.”

“Wow, we should have that phrase engraved around here, everywhere, it should actually be the closing statement of every single council meeting…” Brienne started laughing again. “…It should be the new maxim of the whole damn Westeros.” And then her laughter became really loud.

“Oh, hells, I am going to wake everyone up.” She said lifting to look for her clothes.

“Stay with me! Please.”

But she had found the clothes and was beginning to dress.

“You said you did not want to play secret lover anymore. Not ever.”

“I don’t”.  _Then what, right?_ He exhaled.

 _‘Exactly. Then what?’_ She replied with her resigning eyes, before picking up the candle from the floor.

“Come, I’ll light that up before you leave.”

“With what fire?” She said looking around the moonlighted room.

 _With the fire of my heart?_ He lifted from the bed to where she was standing and took the candle. She gave him a puzzled look. He didn’t have another hand to grab her neck, so he took his chances and kissed her again. If she pulled out, he would let go.

She didn’t.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok JBs, real life has finally caught up with me, but could not leave you with that cliffhanger. Writing this fic should be my treat after getting my job done, lol. 
> 
> Next chapter Sunday at the latest, fingers crossed.


	9. The debts left unpaid (final)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I understand now… and then Lord Tywin is back. A power move. Cunning thinking. The fair move, indeed, for a disgraced house.

When he woke up the room was filled with morning light and she was no longer there. He felt raw bliss all over his body, he couldn’t help it. He was buoyant.  _Lazy fucker me, she probably had less than an hour to sleep before getting ready for the pit._ Jaime stretched his entire body on the bed and looked at the position of the sun in the sky.  _Maybe I can still catch her if I get my ass of this bed right now._

When he got there, he did not only find Brienne down on the pit with the youngsters: over in the platform, there was the whole dammed Royal Court, including King Bran, pale and feeble in the middle with Podrick standing behind and Tyrion sitting next to him. Even recently-bruised-face, angry looking Bronn was there.  _Oh, fuck… the matches._  It came too late for Jaime to remember that day was the day the candidates for squirehood would fight and present their improvements to the King. They all noticed him arriving and he had no choice but to walk straight to them, climb the platform, salute the King and, thanks the seven, go for the empty chair on the far-right side, next to Sansa.  _Probably Brienne’s place, good. She won’t mind._

His mid-event arrival had made the ones on the field stop with the swordfights.  He knew Brienne was following him with her eyes as he walked to take his place and he did not dare turn to see the admonishing look she was surely giving him but after he had sat. Her eyes were, he found instead, undoubtedly sad.

They had not exchanged words on their second round of lovemaking; at some point, they succeeded in finally surrendering their minds in full to their body rhythms. Happy, he had given in sleep with her fully wrapped in his arms.  _Certainly, none of our predicaments have been solved, not a single one, I concede, and I could expect to see you a little worried, but why sad?_   He would have liked to say right then and there. But she turned her head and gave the indication for the youths to continue.

“Did you have a fun night?” Sansa told Jaime after some time had passed, clearly not engaged in whatever was happening on the pit. Jaime was lost for words.

“Sorry.” She said lowering her head to conceal a little smile.

“What has she told you?” Jaime might as well ask. She seemed happy to chat if only to escape her boredom, in any case.

“She wouldn’t need to tell me anything, I knew you were her lover ever since she vouched for you at Winterfell. The way you looked at her when she was defending your honour… I wouldn’t have taken you in if I had not noticed you had been tight up and tamed by a better woman.”

 _Then why the fuck did you put her on that fucking armour?!_ Jaime thought, disregarding all the other ways that comment was offensive or even caring to clarify they _had not been lovers_ back then.

“Don’t stare at me that way. No one is judging you; I am happy that she is happy.”

“She is not.” Jaime said without thinking.

“She doesn’t want you anymore?”

“No,  _Your Grace_ , she doesn’t want…” Then the image of Brienne’s eyes in the moonlight appeared before him.  _Of course, you couldn’t know._  Jaime sighed.  “She is… extremely difficult to guess in regard to her own… wishes.” Jaime chose to let it out in the open.  “She did not have a particular wish to be Lady Commander of the Kingsguard, for example”.

“Then why did she accept?” Sansa said. Jaime looked at her poignantly, indicating the answer was obvious. “Oh…, I am sorry… I needed her, all right, but I would never have forced her to take the position. I just thought clear she wouldn’t want to be tight up in a Lady role of any kind, I assumed she was like…”

“Like your sister… I know.”

Jaime could see the guilt in Sansa’s face.

“Well it’s not too late, and… regarding me, I trust my brother more.”

“Yeah, that’s not the only issue at stake. She is needed here now, and I have no desire to make ‘stealing the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard’ my first great act as ruler of the West.”

Sansa did not consent with her eyes his obvious remark, it seemed instead he had made her ponder.

“For your house? That would truly be a first great act.”

“I see…” Jaime then said with a tired tone. “We are the filth of the earth…, but we also happen to be quite delusional, it appears, because we think of ourselves as essentially honourable. Callous, maybe. But honourable none the least, and prideful, overall.”

“Exactly, prideful. Now hear me out: who but a handful of people would think you were marring Brienne for love?”

“Oh right,  _Your Grace_ , I don’t know where you are going with this, but please, just stop.”

But Sansa didn’t.

“For most, for the big majority of people this is what will be said of you: you were an oathbreaker who killed the King you swore to protect in cold blood. You served as your sister’s hired sword until it was no longer convenient to side with her. You formed an alliance with the war victors and counselled for two years an inexperienced bastard to ensure your influence over Stormlands territory. When the time was right you took Casterly Rock, but not before seducing the Kings’ most stable and competent  _property_ , effectively destabilizing the crown, giving you time to ensure the crown dependence on house Lannister once again.”  

_Oh, I understand now… and then Lord Tywin is back. A power move. Cunning thinking. The fair move, indeed, for a disgraced house._

“I really wish it had been lemon cake the only thing you would pick from your time in this place.” Jaime replied out loud as the last fighters prepared for the final round.  _I really do, Sansa. I am sorry. I am sorry for what my son did to you. For what my sister did to you. One more unpayable debt on my long list._

 

Whatever bliss remaining in him from the morning time was all gone by the time his brother walked towards them during the break before the prices.

“Your Grace, I left the seat next to your brother so I may have a word with mine if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t at all.” Sansa said standing up and leaving the seat for Tyrion

_Great fucking day, this one._

“I am pushed to speak because Bronn wants your head right now.” Tyrion said.

“Oh, so he is finally tired of the head you have been giving him for the past two years?”

“If that was the case, he wouldn’t be…, I give great head.” Tyrion said putting his most serious tone. Jaime could not control letting scape a small laugh. _Charming fucker, I hate you, maybe that’s why I’ve been avoiding you._

“You know, he is actually very good at dealing with money. Having someone who sees it as a scarce resource and has had to work for it his whole life has truly made a difference.” _It was true that Brienne had never complained about that._

“That doesn’t justify his behaviour. He is not Bronn anymore, but a representative of…”

“…of what?” Tyrion interrupted him.   

Jaime turned his head adamantly at their surroundings.

“Of this, of us, of everything the Realm stands for.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes in exasperation. He pointed with his eyes at Jaime’s stump.

“You know… your multiple stump provisions have become the stuff of legend this past year, but I was honestly expecting to hear the story of how Gendry would melt your golden hand and forge a new one, exactly the same as the old one, but for the pointing middle finger, because _that’s exactly_ how you like to go about in life.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Case in point.”

_Jaime was rabid._

“I should have asked Gendry to forge an arseface to go with your Hand of the King insignia, I should have sent it to you as congratulations for the nomination.”

“Tst, tst… Tywin would have said something far more hurtful and elegant; you need to practice more if you want to get it right.” No matter what he felt about his actions, Jaime could not bear the sight of his brother looking hurt. _No, idiot, I don’t want to get Tywin right._  

“Does it upset you that I am taking it?”

“I was _ecstatic_ that you were taking it.” His brother now said with earnest tone.

 Jaime believed him.

“You were the only one who never saw me as a monster” Tyrion continued. “Now you seem to be the only one who does... So… I miss your company.  Who doesn’t like the company of someone who participates in your vision?”

“Well if you are expecting me to pity you…”

“You never have.”

“And I never will.” Jaime said with all anger gone from his face.

“Thank you.”

That was as much reconciliation as they were going to get and as much as they needed. Jaime felt a weight lifting out of him. Colossal mistakes notwithstanding, he had his brother back. Colossal mistakes all of them had made, _except for a few exceptions._  

“So… What do you think of Brienne?”

Tyrion was briefly taken aback by the casual twist of the conversation but then picked it up all too eagerly.

“Are you serious? She is a keeper.”

“Right?”

“And the sex, oh gods, the endurance that woman must…”

“Why” Jaime halted his brother. “Why is it that everyone just _assumed_ that we were fucking?”

“You aren’t?”

“Ah… Not until... last night, at least.”

“Why?” Tyrion said baffled as if Jaime had told him he didn’t like bathing.

“Well… Because we were _utter idiots_ , now I see. Because no matter how much or how many times we fall short on them, we believed in oaths, promises, honour, foundations, principles. Because someone fucking has to.”

It was at that exact moment Jaime saw Brienne in front of a row of kneeling youths. Widow’s Wail in the air, about to grant them the squirehood. Impulsively, he stood up.   

“Ser Brienne wait a second!”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“I… I should return to you the sword you lent me before you ask these candidates to say their oaths.” Taking the sword from his belt, Jaime turned to address the whole audience. “They say all great swords bear names and this sword’s name is Oathkeeper.” Jaime was realizing there was much to want in his ability to give grand speeches. “…and it’s appropriate to use such a sword for this occasion.” Jaime handled Oathkeeper to Brienne who took it quickly more in the spirit of having Jaime back in his sit fast, but Jaime was not done yet. “I also need my sword back because I would like to take the occasion to officially announce my  obligation to the rebuilding of the Six-Kingdoms and, on a personal note, to swear my sword to King Brandon Stark.”

 _Come on Brienne, if you want this over and done with, handled me the damn sword._ He said with his eyes as he extended his hand down the platform.

And then and there Jaime knelt before Bran. Widow’s Wail on the floor in front of the King. It was looking intently at the sword and as Tyrion was saying ‘to Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock’ that it struck him. _What he was really doing_. The realization felt down on him like a thunder strike. He lifted his face to look at Bran in the eyes. _I’ll do it, Bran, if it comes to it. You don’t have to agonize over this alone anymore. You know I can do it._

Bran looked at him, smiling, peaceful.

He knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to eat my words all the time like these two. I said I would take a break. haha. This is the end of Jaime's POV. Now we will be returning to Brienne. What is going on in this girl's head, right?


	10. There is no one like you, only you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The armour… weighted.

The armour… weighted. It had taken all the strength she didn’t know she had to precede the squirehood ceremony. Seeing Jaime arrive in the mid of it did not help even if she wished it did. She was lost for what was happening with herself. After the ceremony was done, she just had to make excuses and go. She didn’t tell them why. She didn’t tell them: ‘because this armour weights.’ She took a horse and rode it straight for four hours to the Inn where she had made the first stop so many years ago… when Jaime gave her Oathkeeper and sent her to find Sansa _. This is senseless, I don’t know myself, nor what I am doing._ She had taken off the armour halfway through the Inn, she had hidden it behind some rocks, and she rode again, Oathkeeper the only piece of metal now with her aside of some coins. When she was left alone in her room she kept staring at the wall, uncertain as what to do. Maybe with a day would suffice. Who would wonder where she was? Perhaps it was lack of sleep, she did not have any at all the previous night. As Jaime closed his eyes and began to snore softly, she thought for a moment she could steal him. Simply rob him and head for somewhere only they knew. _But who will he find when he wakes up?_

  
Eras ago she dreamt before falling sleep, every night, about her wedding night with Renly Baratheon. She dreamt about how gently he would kiss her and touch her. He would kiss every inch of her body and told her she was beautiful. They would have eight children. They would dance often. He would find for her the most skilled of seamstresses, the one who would make dresses that would fit her, everyone would recognize what a hidden gem she was. And she would have tea and biscuits with the other Ladies of the Realm.

  
Ser Brienne of Tarth, Lady Commander of the Kingsguard began to cry for that far gone girl, alone she sobbed in a tarnished room. _I have let myself to be broken. I would not have chosen it, but something is broken. Maybe the dungeon that was holding that girl. And now I need to learn how to live with her._ She cried herself to sleep, it was not sadness anymore, it was the mixture of nostalgy, regret, and joy that occurs when encountering an old friend  you assumed dead or long gone. _All the things we should have done but we never did. All the things you wanted for me. All the things you needed from me. Will you, will I believe that now I am deeply and fully loved?_

 

_****_

 

She rode the next morning to be on time for the training, picking her armour along the way. It still weighted, but it was more bearable than yesterday. Jaime was there in the pit along with the rest of her apprentices. _Where the fuck were you?_ He said with his eyes as she approached them.

“Shall we start, Ser Jaime?” Brienne said, drawing Oathkeeper from the scabbard.

 _We will have a long conversation afterward._ Jaime said again without speaking and drawing Widow's Wail in turn.

She could keep neither pace nor rhythm. She was barely making it. She wanted to drop the sword and hold him. Jaime was noticing she wasn’t there. He slowed down and simplified his strikes until he gave up on trying and put down the sword altogether.

  
“Is everything alright, Ser Brienne?” The brawny girl that loved fighting with Jaime asked.

“It isn’t” Jaime replied for her. “If you excuse us for a second.”

Jaime pointed a little far away with his head, where they could not be heard. Brienne followed as if it was simply the wind pushing her, one way or the other.

“What is happening? You worried me dead and I had to come up with a stupid story to justify your non-appearance the whole day.”

_You are so beautiful._

“Brienne?”

“I am sorry. I have no excuse. Nothing to say.” _I am broken._

Jaime put hand and stump on each of Brienne’s shoulders.

“Is it because I swore my sword to Bran?”

“No.” Jaime’s words pulled her to recent memory. “That was impulsive but ultimately I know you will be loyal and…” She truly wanted to say something encouraging, now she saw she could not manage even that.

“Well then the other thing that happened that could ignite this change in behavior could be us sleeping together…, I don’t regret it,” Jaime said marking those last words.

“I don’t either. Is not that.” Jaime’s eyes turned serene; he was listening. And Brienne was sure that if she began to explain, what little she could, she would burst into tears again. Jaime had never seen her this way. _Jaime does not know me this way… Podrick, Podrick will help. Podrick might be able to explain. I trust Podrick with this. I don’t trust Jaime with this even if I should.  
_

“Perhaps I’ll explain myself better later, for now, can you take care of the pit?”

“Sure,” Jaime said sighing.

They would have held each other but they didn’t.

 

****

  
Good, sweet Podrick was staring at her without blinking. Brienne knew she was red as ruby all up to her forehead, she had spilled it out as best as she could.

“I don’t understand, Ser.” Podrick finally dared to say.

“Maybe there is nothing to understand.”

“No, I mean. I understand perfectly what you are saying. It is like what happened to me, but… exactly backwards. I would never have guessed I would feel the call to be a White Cloak. But I have not even _thought_ about women in months. King Bran needs me. Suddenly I see there is a me I didn’t know was there and that me is really happy being me… am I explaining myself?”

“ _Somewhat…_ But what is it that you don’t understand then?”

“What’s the shame on being a Lady?”

“What? I didn’t say I have shame on…”

“You do. It is as if you were not allowed to.”

“Nobody liked me as a Lady” Brienne suddenly let scape, also to herself. “Ser Jaime felt in love with me as a fighter…” things were becoming clearer and clearer, “he would have… he would have never respected me, never even turn _to see me_ , would never _see himself in me_ had I not taken the armour. Even you… began appreciating me because I beat the Hound.”

“Ser Brienne, stop right there. No.”

“You are going to deny it?”

“I will certainly deny it. I appreciate you because you are the closest thing I have _to a mother,_ and you have been a mother who has fought for me. Yes, you are superb with the sword, that makes you an even greater _Lady_ , no less of it. There is no one like you, only you.”

Neither Brienne nor Podrick cared to contain the tears.

“So what do you advise me to do?” Brienne said, a little bit more composed. The belief in Podrick’s words still struggling to sink in.

“Well… I don’t think we have anyone to fill your position, but who cares?”

“Is that your advice?”

“I am terrible at these more governing things, you should talk to Lord Tyrion straight, you are out, right? You are doing it?”


	11. There is no one like you, only you (continued)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What horrible way of phrasing things.” Said Jaime. 
> 
> “But perhaps it was that simple.” Conceded Brienne.

“Brienne, do you have a moment?” Tyrion said as he came across her on her way to the White Book room.

She didn’t. She needed to finish Jaime’s page right then, in case, just in case, that was to be her last action as Lady Commander.

“Later, Tyrion. Please.”

“This cannot wait that much.”

He was following her as she walked. Naturally, for every stride she took, he needed five.  _But I cannot simply close the door on him._

“What is this about?” She said after stopping, waiting for him to catch up.

“Can we find someplace that is not the middle of a hallway?”

“I was heading to the White Book room. We can talk there.” Brienne said resigned, hoping she could have the conversation and then quickly dispatch him.

When both got into the room, though, they found Jaime already sit there, White Book open in front of him.

“Jaime.”

“This is just as I left it.” He said, matter-of-factly. “You told me you would complete it.”

“That is what I was meant to do… now.”

“Why wait until now?”

Brienne turned to look at Tyrion pleading with her eyes to give them some space, but he didn’t move; it seemed he was curious as well. 

“I meant to… I suppose I wanted… your complete story.”

“As in, you wanted to be sure I wouldn’t fuck it up? Is that what you are saying?”

“No.”

“Because, you know, I  _felt_  the  _need_  to get some… _reassurances_. I come here, looking for them and all I see is that… I am still a coin in the air, is that so? _”_

Tyrion raised his eyebrows looking at Brienne as if, all of a sudden, she was on trial and Jaime was doing the questioning. There was  _some truth_ into Jaime’s words, she began to fear, and that was the reason why she did not know how to even _start_ responding.

 “Silence lends assent.” Jaime said taking a deep breath and looking away from her.

“No.” How much she wished she could be eloquent like Sansa.

“Let me have a look at that.” Tyrion said, clearly trying to break the tension. He could not look at the book by simply standing up and Jaime all too eagerly rose from the chair as if his case had been made and there was nothing he needed anymore from that book, not then, nor ever. He walked close to her, hurt, but palpably still waiting for her to say something. Not caring anymore about either prudence or the uninvited witness, she let it out, as best as she could.

“You are not a coin in the air.  _We_ are not _the coin_ in the air. We always have been the ones who carry through and carry on with the result of someone else’s toss... and I don’t know how  _life even works_  without someone else doing the tossing, letting me know who or what I need to be.  And I guess… if I didn’t know it for myself I wouldn’t know it for you either. I left your page as it was, but I wanted it to be _perfect_ … because you deserve it. But how could I know?”

“Thereafter known as the Kingslayer!” said Tyrion from the desk.

Jaime and Brienne turned to look at him, to their dismay, he was holding the quill available on the desk, plunging it in ink.

“What are you doing?” Said Jaime.

“That book is sacred.” Said Brienne

“Your calligraphy is horrendous.” Jaime continued.

“You try to stop me I _swear_ I will empty the ink in the whole thing, right now.” Tyrion said calmly, quill in hand, raising his eyes to look at them.

Jaime and Brienne stood put, looking at Tyrion, horrified.

“So… Thereafter known as the Kingslayer _, gods be blessed_ ” He had begun to write and read out loud as he went. “Because crazy Aerys was going to burn everyone in King’s Landing before conceding the Throne to Robert. He shut up about this and lived his life as best as he could until he was captured by the Young Wolf Robb Stark in the battle of Whispering Wood. There he met Brienne of Tarth, warrior woman, former member of Renly’s seven, later to become Ser Brienne of Tarth first woman knight and first Lady Commander of the Kingsguard. She brought him back safely to King’s Landing, but not before he managed to get his fighting hand cut. He served King Tommen and then Queen Cersei until the later betrayed the armies that fought against the Night King. He rode alone to the North to keep his promise and fought with them. He helped Lord Gendry Baratheon bring back the Stormlands to stability then swore his sword to King Bran and took his seat as heir of Casterly Rock.” Tyrion finally put the quill down. “There, it was so simple.”

“What horrible way of phrasing things.” Said Jaime.    

“But perhaps _it was_ that simple.” Conceded Brienne.

“Now, speaking of tossed coins, what I wanted to tell you is that Queen Sansa is already plotting your way out of your own predicaments, she is all too happy to have two loyal fools at the price of one, ensuring for her _soft_ control not only here, through her brother, but in the West through you two and by connotation in the Stormlands.”

“What? With what right she…” Jaime began to say.

“With the right of all the gods I don’t believe in and may they bless her a thousand times over. She knows, more than anyone, _she knows…_ that for _every single thing_ she takes a firm hold on,  there is someone spiteful, prideful or delusional that won’t take it, or at least will think twice before taking it. She has the nerve to take charge and responsibility, she doesn’t need everyone publicly bending the knee or giving her a thousand titles, she just wants to make sure _the wheel_ , the wheel that grinds the grains, saddles the horses, clothes the children and keeps people from killing each other, continues on spinning… and she is putting whomever she sees fit on each of the gears to make them push and push. Gods bless her a thousand times over! Because if the Realm only depended on emotional buffoons like me or on _grave_ _honourable_ warriors like you, the tyrants would come and run all over us once again, readily, effortlessly. Now tell me…” Tyrion was out of the chair, there was no one who could stop him once he was in speech-spirit. “Why do you always choose to shut up and carry all the weight of the world in your own damn shoulders, serving, following orders, taking it _all_ in… without daring to assume authority? Do you know what happens when you, the honourable, don’t ponder _and_ dictate _and_ adjust the rules but instead just _follow through_ whatever the fucking _should_ and _shouldn’t_ is at the moment? We… who don’t give a rat’s ass about codes, _toss a fucking coin_ when shit happens and we need to come up with a new right and wrong. Because what else can we do? For all I care Knighthood, the Kingsguard, the codes of honour, the principles and oaths and rules of behaviour are yours, all of them are yours, that’s _your_ cog on this wheel.  You leave them to me I will release Brienne from the Kingsguard and put Bronn in charge of everything and, as my dear father once said, I will turn this White Book room into a convenient ready-at-hand brothel. I _intend_ to carry this threat. It’s your choice.”

With that, he finally left the room.

Brienne and Jaime rushed to look at the travesty Tyrion had probably done with the White Book.

“It looks horrible.” Said Jaime

“I am so sorry.” Said Brienne.

“Did you listen to anything he was saying?” Jaime said.

“I have trained myself not to.” Brienne replied. 

Jaime sighed.

“Essentially, if you wait for perfect your whole life you leave a blank space”, Jaime said looking at the book “vulnerably available for an asshole to take it and fill it as he sees fit; and that is why Sansa has chosen to rule us all and that is why we both should accept that whatever it is we want to do with our lives and duties… It’s up to us and no one else.”

Brienne earnestly appreciated Jaime’s compression, in all respects. There was so much to take in from the past two days… she wanted to rest, _with him_ , breath in and calmly untie everything through. _What would she do if everything was simply up to her?_

“I want to take this armour off.”

“Are you flirting?” Jaime said sluggishly, fully knowing she wasn’t.

“As a matter of fact, I also want to flirt and relax and be happy and think things through…” She did not know how ready she was but she was going to say it. “Wearing something lighter, a dress, even if I look absurd in them, if it’s up to me, right now…  I want, primarily, to live in a castle and attend to my husband …” _There it is_. She took a deep breath. “Do you mind that?”

“Well… depending on who you choose as husband.”

Brienne smiled slightly. Maybe all her fears were only that.

“Do you want to hear a horrible story?”

“I am not sure”

“It involves Tormund Giantsbane”

“Then I am sure I don’t want to hear it, but go on… tell it.”

“After you left with Gendry he tried to make a last move on me… ‘I know I know I am no catch for you, you surely have every knight in the south drooling for you, all I can offer you is freedom’ he said. And it struck me. There was another world out there, one _other world_ out of who knows how many, in which I was not, essentially, _an aberration…_ And that troubled me, deeply. As if all the pain I had been put through all my life had been fully gratuitous. Serving the rationale of _one_ particular story out of many that could have been told about me. It is not as if this man could look past or beyond my complexion; for him, there was no need to look past anything. I was fine. I was more than fine...”

“I really don’t want to keep on hearing this.” Jaime said, not deviating his attention in the least.

“But you have to…” Brienne said, taking his hand, her eyes locked in his. “ ‘ _Am I scared of this freedom’_? I thought. ‘ _Am I scared of being free of the story that has defined my whole life? How much is my fondness for Jaime due to the fact he lets the story be as it is and seems to want me in spite of it? Wouldn’t it be better to be with someone for whom there is no ‘in spite of’? Is it me who wants to keep the story true simply because is mine and I couldn’t bear to have all my struggles mean nothing?’”_

“When you put it that way…” Jaime said looking at his page on the book. “The same kind of thoughts could have circled my own head…”

“But then I said to myself, ‘ _No!_ _I am fond of Jaime, I_ love _Jaime because he is brave and reckless and… inadvertently entertaining. I_ enjoy _being with him_ ’. I… missed you. I missed you all the time. When I left you here in King’s Landing the first time, it was all about missing you… from then on. Whatever you could see in me, what was _real, for me,_ was that I truly liked you. Not what you could give me or the way you could make me feel, I liked _you_. And then, after years apart, you came back into my life. Perhaps, to this day, I am still quite lost for what to do with that… _officially_. Even after all the things we have lived together. And don’t be mad, but I really don’t have the slightest clue of what you see in me, beyond the warrior woman that I created to make life liveable. ”

“You know, I could kiss you right now, but we are in the presence of a sacred book,” Jaime said softly, then breathed, relieved, and took her face. “Is not what I see in you, Brienne, is not anymore. I see _everything_ at this point if you ask me, but that is simply because I am in love. Is not even what I see in myself whenever you are around me.  It’s just the fact that I see. I see things for what they really are. People are not symbols, they are people. I love you because you love me and it’s an honour to have your full love. Whatever you do, however you chose to be is fine, that won’t take you away from you, even if I am certain you will do it in your own singular way and it will amuse me to end, yes, for sure. I would love it if you share it with me, that’s all, every day, for the rest of our lives.”

For the third time in less than a full day, Brienne could not contain the tears. Jaime had succeeded, also for a third time, to perform a siege without getting anyone hurt. The imprisoned girl had received the message without any space for doubt: _you are deeply and fully loved_. She rested her hand on the desk to compose herself. Some tears fell in the White Book, blurring the words.   

“Still hideous but you made it way much better”. He said, whipping away her tears with his hand.

“A few guests and no one murdered.” Brienne said when she managed to speak again.

“What?”

“That would be my dream wedding at this point.”

Jaime smiled, emotion flowing from his chest.

“Oh, darling” He said.  “In these lands… that’s already too much to ask. But let’s try and do our best to get there.”

Brienne laughed. And then laughed some more. And then a little bit more.

Hand in hand they left the White Book to dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AUTHOR’S META NOTE: “if you wait for perfect your whole life you leave a blank space, vulnerably available for an asshole to take it and fill it as he sees fit.” Finish the books Martin. Finish them please. 
> 
> Ahhhh… It took me so much effort to get my loves to this point that now I just need to enjoy EVERY.MINUTE.OF.THIS.WEDDING, I am using a whole chapter for it. So I’ll add one more for the epilogue.


	12. More than a few guests but still no one murdered I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I need to practice.”
> 
> “It’s two lines! What about the dance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahoah... It is wedding time! I have been writing the whole day, but what better day than Saturday night to post a wedding. The FIC is done. No Epilogue, just two long wedding related chapters.
> 
> So many plot points... I needed to wrap and wrap.

The Tarly boy came with yet another pile of books.  And here Jaime thought his stomach could not sink anymore downward. He had spent four hours reading about marriage rituals according to the Faith of the Seven, the meanings of the prayers, the history and possible variations for the vows, the traditional order of the ceremony, the cases where such tradition could be bent, the different ways in which the bride could be presented... The more he read, the whiter his palms were getting, throat closing, neck sweating.

“Are you all right, Ser Jaime?” The Tarly boy asked putting the books in the table.

Jaime let escape an undefined guttural sound.

“You know…” Said Samwell “I also left the Night Watch for love and look how everything turned out great for me!” He said, extending both hands and pointing at the room they were in. “I mean if you are worried for Ser Brienne…”

 _Gods, I promised no one would get murdered, I should have clarified:_ at  _the wedding._ Jaime thought but still could not manage to utter a sound.

“It is not as if we are not going to miss her. Actually, now that I am helping you out with this, I wanted to ask, has she already thought about a nomination? Because there are some candidates I would like to…”

“Not now. Please.” He said more harshly than he would have wanted. Not surprisingly, the Tarly boy now looked like a scorned child. “Sorry… _Grand Maester_.” Jaime took a deep breath. “You have been very helpful, Ser Brienne has chosen not to rush this decision, the King is well protected with Ser Podrick hardly leaving his side and Gendry Baratheon is bringing twenty of his best knight candidates. She would rather have five committed new knights than a hundred members of the Kingsguard.”

“What about Jon Snow!”

 _Oh…, for fuck’s sake._ Jaime truly was not going to bother.  _Just one more week of this, then a long road journey to the West, only me and her._

Life at the Red Keep had not been exactly easy after they had announced their engagement.  Jaime’s only consolation in this regard amounted to the fact that for every time someone came  _to him_  with supposedly ‘subtle’ enquiries, that same someone was therefore not annoying the heck out of his wife-to-be.   

“I’ll let her know.”  _That even my son Tommen was less callow than you._

“Thank you.” Samwell Tarly looked as if he wanted to say something more but was pondering how smacked he would get by Jaime if he did.

“Anything else?” The faster he let it out the faster Jaime would be left alone.

“Yes. As a matter of fact…” Samwell still looked hesitant.  “Ser Bronn… has asked me if he will be invited to the wedding?”

_Oh._

_For._

_Fuck’s._

_Sake._

 

\---

 

Old gods and new ones be blessed, the next day the ship with Lord Selwyn, Gendry, the Tarth Septon and twenty thug-looking fighters on board finally came. Jaime and Brienne were waiting for them at the dock. It was her father who came down first, rushing as his age allowed to, joy in all his demeanour, eager to hug his daughter. Gendry waved at Jaime from the deck, then shook his hand in the air and raised his shoulders enquiringly, clearly teasing that Jaime was carrying his stump naked. Jaime would not have known how much a stranger he had felt in King’s Landing if not for the difference he felt now, _now that my family is here…_    _Will we be able to create a home in the West_?

But Lord Selwyn halted any other thoughts by making Jaime the next in line to receive a tight, bear-like, hug.

 

****

 

“It’s been fifteen years since I last saw you wearing one of those,” her father said as Brienne showed him his chambers, the trunk he had brought already in the room.

“What do you think?”

“You are going to let me have thoughts on my own now?”

“Oh, don’t be mean.”

“I sincerely thought you would never be going to allow yourself happiness.”

“Dad…”

Lord Selwyn turned away from his daughter and went to open the travel trunk. He took a small wooden box from there and turned to Brienne again.

“I did bad, darling, I should not have tried to marry you to all those dullards. I am so relieved you almost killed the last one, I hate it that I conceded to their complaints instead of punching them in the face, which is what I should have done.”

Lord Selwyn’s eyes were wetting. He handled the wooden box to Brienne. She opened it to find a simple but graceful tiara, with flowers made of turquoise sea glass and pearls.

“I’ve been keeping that for you.”

“Since when?” Said Brienne.

“Doesn’t matter. It would have been wasted at any other moment in time.”

 

***

“The tall girl, with braided unruly hair, you saw her?”

“Yes, she is new.”

“I really like her.”

Gendry and Jaime were reclined in one of the large balconies, Jaime was waiting to spot Bronn passing by below to invite him for a brief a talk. He deemed a formal settlement better than the dread of Bronn irrupting in the middle of the wedding banquet, demanding an apology. 

“So you have given up on Arya returning?”

“Not… given up, I just like this other girl.”

Jaime gave Gendry a stony look.

“What?” Gendry said.

“Nothing. I just don’t want you leaving bastards all over the Realm like your good old father.”

“As if!” Gendry said smiling broadly. One of the things Jaime liked the most about his friend was how unlikely it was for him to take shame or offence to anything he was told.

“As if… what? You like this girl, then get to know her better and make a choice, don’t… play around.”    

“No, idiot. As if I was not the one who keeps _you_ away from trouble.”

Jaime opened his mouth, not able to reply immediately to Gendry’s retort.

“Ah… As a matter of fact, when it comes to love _I am_ an authority.” Gendry looked at him with amused disbelief. “In other regards… it might be true that…” Bronn was approaching, he could see them from below and Jaime waved his hand indicating him to come. Bronn raised his eyebrows and disappeared below them. “…It’s good to have you around.” Jaime turned away from the balcony, waiting for Bronn to come up.

“So what is it exactly that I am doing here?” Gendry said, turning as well.

“Exactly that, you are holding me down.” 

“Physically?”

“Yes, you are holding both of my shoulders in case I want to jump on him again.”

Bronn was finally at their floor, walking towards them.

“Got it,” Gendry said quickly as the Master of Coin was already a few feet away from both.

“I see not every son of whore that becomes Lord is your enemy.”

Jaime turned to look at Gendry, as expected, he looked more entertained than insulted.

“Unlike you, he earned his title battling in the Great War, not out of making a better deal on a murder contract.”

“That deal between me and your brother had run for years, had I found you there as well, though, I would have put the arrow straight into your forehead.”

 _You wouldn’t have._ Jaime sighed. Better get this over and done with.

“Perhaps I overreached my… jurisdiction.”

“Overreached my ass, but the girls said you were right, now all of them have banned me from visits during the day.”

“It’s good to hear that civilians take matters into their own hands.”

“Now, quit the crap. Who the fuck you think is paying for your fucking wedding?”

Of all the wedding questions he had had in his head in the past days, that _specific one_ , he had not pondered. Gendry looked at him, amazed that Jaime would not know.

“I’ll tell you, _you are_ , 15,000 dragons.”

“What!”

“That is after interest rate, or what, you have the money with you? From what I heard the Lannister arcs are emptier these days than an old septa’s vagina.”

“That is fucking usury!” Jaime replied, unnerved. Gendry put his arm in front of him.  

“Say something nice about me,” Bronn said suddenly. Both Jaime and Gendry stared at him puzzled. “Say something nice and perhaps I could give you a more beneficial rate, given your _wanting_ circumstances.”

 _Motherfucker, that is no way to determine tolls._ But Jaime decided to put the rest of the anger on hold.

“I would have you a thousand times over Peter Baelish.” He said, after sighing. It was true.  

“That’s a start but not enough.”

 _Perhaps over Oleanna Tyrell as well, I don’t know, she liked Brienne. I wouldn’t know, it was me that poisoned her… And what a reminder you are._ Jaime was not going to wander around those thoughts.  _Oh, let him have his fucking rate if he wants._

“I would not mind you going to my wedding if you don’t come with a crossbow.”

“Oh, fucking prideful moron… I’ll go alright, with one of my girls.”

“You can bring two, to keep you in check.”

“I’ll bring five if you are feeling that generous.” And with that, he left.

Jaime closed his eyes, resigned.

“You know I was the one who conquered and killed the previous ruler of that castle he owes?” Jaime said not so casually to Gendry. His friend only raised his eyebrows letting him know he was not entirely surprised to hear that. “Do not let me go, all right?” Jaime added. “Visit often, you can tenderly wait for your girl at Lannisport once or twice a year...”

“Calm down, man, you got Brienne now to watch over you.”

“Yeah, I don’t want her carrying all of my _troubles…_ , you can rub it off, I am not sure she can that easy.”

 

****

It was a very unusual wedding dress. There was very _little_ of it. The neckline ran way lower than it was custom, both in front and in the back. The sleeves were all made of white lace and the skirt was made of light silky fabric, it ran down to the bottom but had a wide opening on the side, almost from the top of the leg.

“You don’t trust me, wait until you put it, it is perfect for your figure.” Said Sansa behind her. Both of them were looking at the dress displayed in the wooden model.  

“I do. It’s going to be… a hot day, in any case.” _Am I a prig?_

Sansa laughed.

“Most of us would look a little bit _indecent_ in that, I concede, but you’ll look like a princess coming from the bottom of the Oceans, skinned in white.”

_I should let the experts guide, I suppose._

“This is something my mom would have done for you.” Sansa continued. Moving to touch the dress with her hand. “Not exactly to marry Jaime Lannister, of all people, well… maybe now even for that… who knows? Who would _ever_ know… right?”

“Sansa.” Brienne said, turning emotional.

 “You know how they have begun calling me?” She said, now looking directly at Brienne. “I am sure the nickname will travel South soon as well…  Queen of the North they say, as they salute me; but _Lady Stoneheart_ they say behind my back.”

Brienne looked at her kindly, gods be blessed, at least this was something she had _some_ expertise on.

“If the name hurts you, then it means your heart is not that much made of stone, right?”

Sansa’s eyes became teary.

“Right.” She said quietly.

“Let them believe what they believe, Sansa, they don’t need to know. As long as you don’t believe it yourself, _ever_ , then things will turn out fine.”

Now all pretence was gone, Sansa was fully crying.

“That’s what I need to believe.” She said sobbing. “That for every Ramsay Bolton, for every Littlefinger, I need to believe, I have to believe there is someone like you.”

Brienne of Tarth, soon to be Lady Lannister, and Sansa Stark, Queen of the North, hugged in silence in front of the white wedding dress.

****

The Lannister Lion was weaved with thread made of gold into the red cloak. It was superb, even if a little bit ostentatious.  

“How much do I have to pay for this?” Said Jaime to his brother.

“It’s _my gift_! and since when do you think about money?”

“Since it’s something that I need to think about.”

“It’s fine… I wouldn’t want you wearing the same one for my wedding with Sansa… It was hilarious, poor thing actually had to crouch…”

“Your wedding with Sansa…, gods, where have _we not been_.”

“Let the past die already.  You two will be the first ones to marry in that Sept. There will be a few scaffolds still…, beautiful! breath-taking! A _symbol_ of the reconstruction, of the world to come.”

“I think I am done with symbols. In fact, I wanted to weave our twin swords into the Lannister banner but then I began having second thoughts even about that…”

“Why? You love those swords.”

“I thought about my children… Asking me about those swords, I imagined myself proud, telling them this _beautiful story_ about me and their mother… fighting side by side against the Army of the Dead, swords shinning in the moonlight…, and then I would have to explain the properties of Valyrian Steel… “‘ _Ah_ ’ one of the children would say very innocently ‘ _how did you get the precious metal, father?’_ ” Jaime paused to pass saliva. “‘ _Oh, you’ll see… they were made from an Ancient Sword called Ice that belonged to a man named Ned Stark… whose head was cut because he discovered I had fathered three children with my sister. Your half-brothers, now all dead, by the way’_ … Not so inspiring anymore, right? It becomes harder and harder to explain the overall meaning of things…”

“Cut the bullshit.”

“Please, it was you who asked.”

“Cut the bullshit and move forward, that’s the meaning of the story… a new dictum for Lannister house, because the one about paying debts…”

“Oh, yeah, it’s never going to happen at this point. We are broke as fuck.” That last remark raised the spirits of both Lannister brothers again. They looked at the weaved Lannister Lion.

“I guess I’ll factually cloak Brienne with all the gold our house has left.”

And then Tyrion and Jaime started laughing.

Once more.

 

*****

 

Two days before the wedding Jaime and Brienne were sitting on the grades of the pit, supervising the training Gendry’s soldiers were giving to the younger fighters.

“Do you know how many pigeons you need to kill to make a wedding pigeon pie?” Brienne asked Jaime, as they watched the sparring.

“Between 250 and 350.”

“Yes! I was not expecting you would know the answer.”

“I have been reading all about it, the custom started with a pigeon plague, they made pigeon pies for weddings because that was the thing most available and most _cheap_ , 400 years ago, though.”

“Well, I find it disgusting, to get that many pigeons killed for a pie.”  

“Yeah, I never eat that shit either…” Jaime thought for a second. “Is this about money?” He said, turning to look at Brienne.

“No!”

“You don’t have to worry about a thing.”  

“I know.”

They turned their attention back to the arena. Jayn, the brave girl that revered Brienne and adored mocking Jaime, was not showing any of her characteristic enthusiasm on the field.

“She looks sad as hell.”

“It breaks my heart.”

“We could take her.”

“That is kind of a rushed decision, isn’t it?”

“Oh, come on, when was the last time that _you_ did _not_ have a child under your care?”

Brienne thought for a moment, stunned by the realization.

“Should I count you on the list?”

“Absolutely.”

“Maybe _I am_ too accustomed at this point… We can send her after us, protecting our caravan… She is eleven, I mean, I think he can manage a few bandits... Podrick fought in a war at ten.”

Jaime placed his hand in Brienne’s leg.  

“So you want to…” He said.

“Again?” She said.

“I need to practice.”

“It’s two lines! What about the dance?”

“It’s not going to happen.” Brienne laughed. “It might happen if I feel I’ve got this flawlessly. Come on” Jaime took his hand out of her leg to take a piece of paper from his pocket.

 “I have it already memorized… since I was six.” Said Brienne.

Jaime unfolded the paper as if he was not listening.

“Ok…” He turned to look at Brienne with the most serious expression he could put.  “Father, Smith…

 

 

 

"… Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..."

“I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,"

 _Until the end of my days._ Jaime thought as he looked at his bride, already cloaked with the Lannister Lion. All white and splendid, she looked as imposing as if she were one of the statues of the Seven, coming down to marry a beast.

"I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

 _I am his and he is mine._ Brienne thought as she looked at her groom, eyes as green as wildfire. He looked full a Knight and full a Man. Brave like the Warrior and Just like the Father. Defender of the weak.

Protector of the innocent.   


	13. More than a few guests but still no one murdered II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All the time… I kept forgetting she was my enemy.” He concluded, addressing her more than anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We continue now with the feast.

“So yeah…, ‘I am going to escape somehow’, so that is what I am thinking…” All eyes were on Jaime as he was telling the story. “And _she_ starts _climbing_ this cliff, ‘I am out, I think, I have lost her…’ So I start provoking the ship that is chasing us, not exactly knowing what she is up to, and then I see this… ridiculously large rock fall from the cliff, right into the ship, making the archers _fly_ in the sky, I am aghast but I say ‘this is my chance’ I begin to row, I look up, and then... there she is… jumping into the lake. She looks _so graceful_ I almost don’t want her head hit into a rock, but lo and behold, she dives just fine and starts swimming to the boat. I hold the oar, of course, I intend to hit her with it, of course, with the oar…, except that when she is already there, _I don’t_. I just hand her the oar instead so she can come up with me. Idiotically.” Jaime finished, placing his palm on the face.

The listeners burst into laughter. Jaime turned smiling to look at his bride sit by his side.

“All the time… I kept forgetting she was my enemy.” He concluded, addressing her more than anyone else.

“What about you Ser Brienne, when did you felt for him?” Asked Podrick, from the right side of the table.

Brienne gave Jaime a full scan with her eyes.

“I am still working on that question” There was more laughter. “I am marrying him for the time being.” She said, giving Jaime a mischievous look.

“Well!” Bride and groom turned towards the direction of the raised voice. It was Ser Davos, who had stood up. “If I may say a few words…” He said shyly but firm. Jaime assented with his head. “It is very simple what I have to say… I don’t want to curse it by saying it, but I have to say it… this is the first time ever since the Last War that I feel, truly, that Winter is finally over.”

“Here, here,” Lord Selwyn said raising his glass to break the brief heaviness that suddenly engulfed the banquet room. Everybody raised their glasses all too eagerly in turn.

“Do you agree Winter is gone?” King Bran, who was sitting at Jaime’s right, asked only to him, as the guests resumed their chattering and Brienne turned to talk to Sansa.

“You would know better than me, wouldn’t you?”

“Right now, I could only tell you from the point of view of a boy that has seen too much.”

“That’s the only perspective that matters.”

“For some of us… Winter will never be fully gone.” Bran said with calm eyes. “But, in my case, it’s good to be an _invited_ _witness_ to something… For a change.”

“All right, _Your Grace…_ , I hope you pass in history as the Bran _the Acrid_ , not _the Broken_. It fits you more.”

“I like it.” The King said.  

_And Bran the Acrid does not suppose that ‘everything happens for a reason’ or any of that drivel, but he is determined that we, the broken, should move on._

“So… Ser Brienne” _Oh… for… fuck’s… sake…no._ The Tarly boy stopped Jaime’s more sombre reflexion. “Before you leave for the West… Could you grace us with the revelation of who is going to…”

“Grand Maester” _Thank gods for Tyrion… sometimes._ “You of all people can know that the Throne has always been as strong as each of the kingdoms that form it. What better way of stating this fact that by making the safety of the capital more dependent and trusting on the armies around the Realm?”

“So no one, that is the answer.”

“No, that’s not the answer.”

“For the time being” Brienne stated, coming to the conversation.

The Tarly boy could not conceal disappointment. But he raised his glass in any case.

“To … for the time being, in that case!”

“For the time being!” Bronn said loudly not missing such a precious moment to laugh his ass off. Once again, they all drank to make the moment pass quickly.

“Are all speeches over?” Said Gendry.

“Yours I would honestly like to hear.” Said Jaime, with Brienne, as a matter of process, hitting him under the table.

“I don’t have a speech, I have a gift.”

“So much better.”

Gendry came to their place carrying a large box. Jaime began guessing what it contained.

“So, I know..., I was actually put through three hundred million times to the story about your twin swords and how important they are to you…”

“ _Three hundred million times?”_ Brienne whispered to Jaime. Jaime smiled innocently.

“But it’s always good to have an extra sword, and in any case, this is something I really wanted to make for you two. I have given Jaime a thousand stump tools already.”

Gendry placed the box in the table and encouraged them with his eyes to open it. It was Brienne who did.

There in their scabbards two swords laid together. Identical, except for the handles. One of them had _Jaime_ engraved in it, the other _Brienne_. Bride and groom instinctually picked them up and took them out of their respective scabbards in order to feel the handle and the weight. They were light, efficient, simple yet ingeniously crafted.  

“Wait over there,” said Lord Selwyn. “You are not going to start sparring in front of us, right?”

“ _Sparring_?” Said Tyrion playfully.

“What about a dance?” Said Sansa.   

“He does not dance.” Said Brienne, apologetically.

“No, I can dance.” Said Jaime, daringly.

The musicians changed the soft tunes they were playing for something more melodic.

He placed his own sword in the table and waited for Brienne to do the same, then took her hand to lead her to the centre of the banquet room.  Jaime had clearly no idea of what he was doing and was expecting Brienne to lead, she was not budging, though.

“Could you return to your wine, please?” He said addressing the spectators and holding Brienne by the waist.

There were cheers and whistles. _So that’s a no._

Brienne put her arms around Jaime’s neck.

“Let’s improvise.” She said softly.

And they started moving, boringly enough, he hoped, for the onlookers to get tired of them, eventually.

 _Two swords_ , Jaime thought, as he stared fixedly at his bride. _Made out of one sword that belonged to a man who died unfairly. Two of the children of that man grew up to become King and Queen of Westeros, and each of the swords was sworn to each of those monarchs... Those swords are ours, now, but will probably be held by others in the future._

_Perhaps only those swords that bear our names are truly ours._

He had gotten the story right. And for some reason that propelled him to go and kiss Brienne passionately, vehemently, on the lips. She was surprised but took him in.  

They pulled apart as they heard the whistles.

“That is not dancing.” Bronn shouted. Jaime was glad it was not ‘go fuck in a room’ what he shouted.  

“I believe you are having fun,” Jaime said out loud to all their guests, holding Brienne’s hand.  “We can leave you here without fear of you getting into any trouble, I promised my wife no murders today.”

“Take the swords with you, just in case.” Said his brother.

Jaime had a sudden idea.

“We’ll do.” He said, picking both swords with his one hand from the table, then giving Brienne’s hers. She looked bewildered but Jaime had the impression that for that night, even if for that night only, she would let herself be driven, trustingly.

“Father, watch out for them.” Was the only thing she said smiling in passing, as they left all the guests behind.   

 

******

 

As she felt the hot air from the outside, laughing, Jaime holding her hand, leading her gods know where… it was joy.

Joy all over her body. Joy in her limps and belly and arms and face. Joy.

“Are you telling me now?”

“We are stealing a horse.” He said halting to bring her to his face, talking close to her lips.

“If we are already stealing, shouldn’t we steal two?”

“We should steal two, but I want you to hold me while a ride.”

“That horse won’t get very far.”

“We will sell it when it gets exhausted.”

“And then…”

“And then we’ll buy two horses.”

Brienne laughed out loud. She could not contain her kisses; she was waiting for him all her life.

“Come on.” He said pulling apart.

“We are not bringing anything else with us?”

“No. Those are the rules.”  

“When are we coming back?”

“We are not coming back, we have an almost-squire to ride all our stuff when we get to the West.”

“Jaime! That is fucking crazy!”

“Those are the rules.” And he kissed her again.

 _I am his and he is mine._ Joy all over her body. Joy in her limps and belly and arms and face. Joy. Rush and excitement up and down: free. And free, unbidden arousal as well, free as she did not know she could hold within her.

_I am his and he is mine._

They were going to be with each other, finally, for the first time in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, and its a wrap!!!!
> 
> Bear in mind people that Grammarly is my beta. I have been writing this none stop, but eventually i would like to properly revise it.
> 
> In the meantime I would love to hear your comments. You can also find me in tumblr with my same user name.
> 
>  
> 
> THANK YOU ALL REALLY FOR ALL THE SUPPORT!
> 
> THIS HAS BEEN A TRUE RIDE.
> 
> P.S. ahahah... I am shy to ask... but if you liked it... could you REC it to the fandom?????


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